So Let It Be Said, So Let It Be Done
by Raina1
Summary: It's not every day a person gets a second chance at life. Sometimes the doors we walk through lead us to places we'd never thought we'd go... or right back to where we started. Contains Puzzleshipping  Atem/Yuugi romance  and sexual situations.
1. The Nameless Pharaoh

**Disclaimer: **_If I owned this, you can bet there would have been more puzzle shipping in it. Kazuki Takahashi is the owner and creator of Yugioh. I'm only borrowing his characters to tell you a fan fiction after my own fashion._

**Timeline**: _Post-series_

**Author's Note**: _Sarah Chanson and Mandy Hawkins are the reincarnations of two characters, Kisara and Mana, so in a way they are original characters and they are not._ _I like reviews and would very much appreciate it if you could indulge me with a remark or two. I like to know how I'm doing._

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**So Let It Be Said, So Let It Be Done**

By Raina1

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"**The Nameless Pharaoh"**

"Sarah!"

Sarah Chanson exhaled loudly through her lips and put down the dog-eared journal she was copying ancient hieroglyphs from photographs her assistant had taken inside of the tomb. This was what, the _fourth_ time her assistant had interrupted her in the same afternoon? Couldn't that kid do anything on her own? Sure, she was still a student, and Sarah should have probably given her some slack, but it didn't take an Einstein to dole out the simplest orders or follow the laws of common sense.

"Sa_rah_! Where are you?"

_Might as well get it over with or she'll never leave me alone_. Sarah stood up from her table and pushed aside the tent flap. Squinting through the hot Egyptian sun, the thirty-three year old archeologist scanned the rocky outcroppings above the mass of workers and diggers. The young woman wasn't hard to spot: her silhouette stuck out like a dead leaf against the bright desert horizon. When she spotted her mentor, she waved both arms back and forth excitedly as if she were trying to bring an airplane in for a landing.

"What is it?" she had to yell to be heard over the din, shooting a warning glare at a reporter who started toward her and stopped.

"Omar says they've found something!"

_They've found something_. No three words ever sounded as sweet to her ears as those did just then. Sarah ducked back into the tent briefly to grab her hat, before running across the sand to follow her young protégé back to the dig site. _After weeks of nothing, we may have finally found it. _As Sarah hurried, her assistant, Amanda "Mandy" Hawkins, tagged along beside her. The faint sunburn on her cheeks couldn't keep the college student from grinning ear to ear.

"Does Mr. Ishtar know?"

Malik Ishtar was a member of the family of tomb keepers who had allegedly been keeping an eye on the tomb they were now excavating. He was often seen distantly overseeing the proceedings. He never spoke to anyone, but his disapproval of the dig was evident in his perpetual narrow-eyed gaze. It was well-known that the Ishtars held an intense dislike for what they felt was a sacrilege against their duty to protect the tomb of the aptly dubbed "Nameless Pharaoh." Fortunately for Sarah and her team, this dig was being financed and officially sanctioned by the Egyptian government, and various other legitimate funders. It didn't seem to matter that Sarah generously allowed the family to continue to occupy the site and observe. They remained aloof and seemed to scorn all who approached them. Sarah had made a little leeway with Isis Ishtar, the head of the Ishtar clan, but it wasn't enough to breach the barrier. She was a foreigner, an invader, and she was plundering the tomb of someone they obviously held in high regard.

_You would think from the way they act, they had known the guy personally, and wasn't someone who had died 3000 years ago._

Mandy nodded, her bright expression darkening. "He knows. He's… Actually…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence. Sarah could see from the scene he was causing Malik knew… and the kid was absolutely _livid_ about it.

"No! I will _not_ step aside!" Malik was holding something threateningly in the face of the hapless digger. It dangled and swung back and forth crazily, the dirt encrusted around it flaking off as he shook it. As its surface was revealed to sunlight, the glaring glint of gold caught Sarah's eye. As she approached and reached out to seize the thing he was waving around, Malik saw her and jerked back. "You will stop _this_!" he spoke through his teeth. He gestured at the activity surrounding them. "You will put these items back immediately where you found them!"

Sarah hardened her gaze and snatched the object he was waving around. It was an (oddly modern looking) chain that held an upside down pendent in the shape of a very large gold pyramid. On one side of it was the unmistakable emblem of the Eye of Re. It was beautiful. She was enchanted. "Where on earth did you find this?"

Malik moved to block her from the steps leading down into the hole the diggers had created in the earth. The digger he was yelling at immediately fled. Sarah narrowed her deep blue eyes and met his pale ones balefully. Brushing a strand of her long silver-white blond hair out of her face, she leaned in close to his face. "Stand aside, Mr. Ishtar. I have complete jurisdiction here and you know it."

Malik met baleful gaze for baleful gaze. "I don't care _what_ you think your 'jurisdiction' is. You have no idea what you're dealing with here. None of you do."

Sarah held out her hand invitingly, angrily. "Then tell me. Share. _Communicate_. Give me something to go on!" She held up the artifact as a matter of point. "You have my complete permission to come down there with me but what you _cannot_ do is stop this dig." She started to go around him; he side-stepped to block her again. "Stand aside," she spoke softly through her teeth, ignoring the sweat running into her eyes, "or I _will_ have you arrested."

Malik pressed his lips together, the hostility growing in his eyes. "This goes on your head, Dr. Chanson," he hissed. "Your arrogance on what you think you are entitled to amounts to nothing more than grave robbing." Despite this hate filled statement, he moved aside.

Sarah smiled, gestured that Mandy follow them, and plunged into the earth. She was a bit touched that despite his damning words, the young man reluctantly began to descend after her.

She focused on the digger, Omar presumably, who appeared from the darkness below to meet them. "Where was this found?" she asked the man, holding up the pendent.

He was as excited as she was starting to feel. "In a hollow chasm in the earth, and there are six others just like it!"

Sarah's heart began to beat faster. "You mean this…" She looked down at the golden artifact lying innocently in her hand. "_These_ are the Millennium Items from the hieroglyphics?"

His confirming nod only drove her on faster. They reached their destination and the worker stood aside from a hole in the earth, shining his flash light down into the darkness. "Be very careful. We almost lost two men before. But you can see them very clearly."

Sarah took the flashlight from him and shone it down into the darkness. As the light fell on each golden artifact half-buried in sand and rock debris, the smile and the brightness in her eyes began to grow. "I think we've found it, Mandy." She glanced away from the captivating sight to connect gazes with the shining one of the brunette standing beside her. "Look up further there. What do you see?"

Mandy looked and gasped. "It's… Is that his…?"

"Yes." The bright smile turned into a grin of pure satisfaction. "_That_ is the Nameless Pharaoh's sarcophagus."

Forgetting herself, Mandy squealed. Feeling the same way, Sarah patted the young woman's arm affectionately and looked up at Omar. "Bring the equipment. I'd like to get started making headway on this while we've still got daylight."

"Yes ma'am."

Meanwhile, not so far behind her, tucked away against one of the walls of the tomb where no one could see him, Malik was speaking into his mobile phone. He was careful to keep his voice down and his words discreet.

"It's worse than we previously thought. You better let Big Sis know about this… I have a feeling things are about to get ugly."


	2. Coming Forth By Day

"**Coming Forth By Day"**

"So Dr. Chanson, how would you compare this discovery to that of King Tut?"

Sarah forced herself to keep the bland smile on her face from stretching too widely, lest it crack her face in half. Already she was feeling the strain from the too long day, and she inwardly swore if this reporter continued to shove that foam covered microphone in her face, she was going to take the thing and stuff it down the irritating woman's throat. Or strangle her with its cord, it was hard to choose. She'd spent nearly an entire day fielding these infernal inquires. If the director of the museum hadn't insisted (he had practically _shoved_ her out in front of him before running away, the coward), she answer a few questions, she could be lying down in her hotel room and catching up on some desperately needed sleep. She wanted to get some preliminary examinations of the Nameless Pharaoh's mummy done before the real invasive work began. Instead she was out here talking to this blasted blotchy faced reporter who apparently had nothing better to do with her time than pester hapless archeologists. She couldn't even say Tutankhamun's name properly.

Thankfully Mandy emerged from the museum in all of her outspoken strangely perky bluster that she habitually used to ward people away from her mentor when appropriate. You couldn't say no to that cute face, a weapon she was fully aware of, and used to her advantage whenever possible.

"Dr. Chanson!" Mandy swept in and hooked both arms around the tired archeologist's throat. "I was wondering where you were! Are you still talking to that silly reporter?" She made shooing motions at the woman, who darkened with rage at being so casually dismissed. To Sarah, she said: "The director wants to see you right now." Before Sarah could open her mouth, Mandy threw an impishly bright grin at the flustered reporter. "Bye-bye!" Then she grabbed the older woman by the wrist and pulled her through the museum doors, closing them behind her back with a wide grin that had the devil in it.

Sarah relished in the cool air conditioning for a moment before dragging the back of her hand across her sticky forehead. God, she needed a shower. "Sometimes I think you use that power of yours too well, Amanda." Exhale. "Thank you so much, you godsend."

Mandy plucked both hands on her hips proudly. "It's what I'm here for. But," she faltered, "oh, um, I-I lied about the director wanting to see you."

Sarah smirked. "I know."

Mandy was surprised. She brushed a lock of unruly brown hair out of her face. "How?"

Sarah removed her hat and shook out her long, straight, slightly damp hair so that it fell past her waist. "He never would have sent you to get me."

Mandy visibly blanched before folding her arms over her bosom, lifting her chin, appearing very offended for her all of twenty-one years. Finally she sagged, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "Yet again the great Ms. Hawkins is underestimated," she grumbled under her breath.

Sarah patted the younger woman on the arm before taking it in her own. "And that's why I love you. Now," she led her to the elevator, "we've got a mummy sitting in my lab that's just begging to have the attention of two lovely ladies like ourselves and we shouldn't leave him waiting."

Mandy giggled as the elevator doors closed in front of them. "I can't wait! Man, that sarcophagus sure was heavy. You'd think with having all of his organs removed he'd weigh a little less."

Sarah shrugged. "Maybe he was fat," she said lightly, as the elevator began to ascend.

"Oh come on. A _fat_ mummy?"

Sarah chuckled and poked her protégé in the ribs. "Just don't start playing with your deck, hmm? I know it gets boring in my lab but if you're going to pass this internship with flying colors, you'll need to give me some _really_ awesome shades."

Mandy took out her sunglasses and held them out to the professor. Sarah glanced at them once, comprehended what she'd just said, and laughed. "Oh you sneak, you knew what I meant."

The other woman tucked the glasses back in her pocket. "I did. You've just looked so grumpy lately I wanted to make you laugh." She smiled. "I'm glad you're in a good enough mood to joke around." _Especially since that Malik guy upset her so much_, Mandy silently added.

The elevator stopped at its destination with a cheery chimey _ding!_ and opened its doors. "Mandy, with you around, it's impossible to be in a bad mood." They walked together down the short corridor leading to Sarah's lab, nodding at the security officer who stopped to check their badges and identities, before allowing them to pass. The building already had plenty of security, increased recently because of the momentous find, but it was never too much to check and double check everyone. You never knew what kinds of stunts thieves might try to pull to get at the valuables locked up in the labs. Ancient famous dead people went for a lot on the black market these days.

Mandy inhaled the air as Sarah locked the door of their lab behind them. "Ah! I love the smell of chloroform in the evening!" She winked over her shoulder at Sarah to show she was kidding before approaching the shining star of their discovery: the sarcophagus containing the Nameless Pharaoh. Or, not so nameless, as the hieroglyphics said his name, which when shortened to something easier to remember, was Atem.

"Kind of like Aten and Atum put together, huh?" Mandy chirped, gazing at the closed container, before picking up one of the canopic jars that had been discovered nearby, all remarkably intact considering how old they were. "So… do you think it's that big and heavy because he was fat _or_ because of the size of his hair?"

_What?_ Sarah raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the clipboard she was perusing. Small, delicate oval glasses were perched at the end of her nose. "His _hair_?"

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Hello? Recall? The tablets? The paintings in his tomb?" Sarah nodded. "You have to admit, whoever this Atem guy was, he certainly had a distinctive sense of style. You think ancient Egyptians invented punk before we did?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully, grasping at a wisp of a fanciful notion. "It would explain a lot of things…" She let the wisp go, dismissing it because of its lack of importance, and walked around the sarcophagus, inspecting it closely. "He must have been a short pharaoh. Wasn't he sixteen when he died? Seventeen?"

Sarah had put down her clipboard and was running her fingers over the surface of the sarcophagus, her touch almost reverent, gentle, and calm. "Older, I think. According to this inscription here," she pointed to the hieroglyph near the head of the container, "it seems he was closer to twenty, if not older. But from the looks of this, yes, he was definitely a short pharaoh. You do also have to remember that men and women back then were much shorter. He probably was as tall as he was going to get." Mandy nodded. Sarah's fingers found what they were looking for and ran back and forth along it. "I've found the edge of the top. You take the feet and I'll take the head. Remember, if it doesn't want to give, don't force it, try another tool or stop completely. We don't want to damage it anymore than it already has been."

"Yes ma'am." After performing the proper procedures, donning the masks, and snapping on the latex gloves, Mandy brought the necessary tools over to the examination table. Quietly both women began to work at opening the sarcophagus. "So," she began to pass the time, "do you think he was cute?"

"Mandy…"

"This is boring, Dr. Chanson. If you don't want me breaking out my deck, you're going to have to help me out here."

Sarah lifted her head so she could look at Mandy from over the sarcophagus. "You are impetuous, you know that?" Going back to her ministrations, she decided to humor her assistant. Anything to keep her working. "Well, you saw the wall paintings in his tomb. He certainly looked handsome enough. But you do know that's just the way the ancient Egyptians depicted their pharaohs. Re forbid that the living god appear _ordinary_ looking."

"That didn't seem to bother Akhenaten." Mandy could be shrewd when she wanted to be. "Of course, he was weird about that. Everything had to reflect reality. It's why people are so fascinated with Nefertiti… she was depicted as one of the most beautiful women in existence. If we go by the honesty of the artwork of that time, then she _must_ have been a real knock out."

Pride surged through Sarah and she allowed a small smile to escape through her frown of concentration. "What do _you_ think?" she bounced back.

"About our friend here?"

"Yes."

Mandy paused and tapped one finger against her mask, mocking like she was giving it serious consideration. "Definitely a head turner," she finally decided. "Don't know why I'm so sure of that but something in me tells me Pharaoh Atem here had the face and the bod enough to make the gods jealous."

Sarah bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "You need to stop reading so many of those dueling magazines. Yeah, I know why you read them," she answered the younger woman's shocked expression, "I've seen your bookmarks. It's not just for the dueling tips."

Mandy blushed, realized what the other had said, and protested hotly, "Hey, what were you doing going through _my_ stuff?"

"Is it 'going through' your stuff when you leave it lying wide open on the coffee table?"

That closed her mouth. "I guess not," she thought she heard Mandy murmur under her breath. "Hey!" she spoke up after several minutes. "I think I've got my end here to open. What about you?"

Sarah chewed on the inside of her cheek before she exclaimed, "I've got it!" Locking eyes with her assistant, she nodded. "On three?" At Mandy's nod, they counted together, and in one single motion, the two women slowly lifted the heavy sarcophagus lid off. They concentrated on gingerly placing the lid on the empty examining table provided just for that purpose. A significant amount of dust had risen into the air, and they spent a tidy few moments just waving it away from their faces. Finally they approached the open casket and peered inside at the body of a man who had not been beheld by human eyes for over 3000 years.

"Wow," croaked Mandy, before she cleared her throat. "It _is_ like Tutankhamun all over again."

Sarah couldn't even manage that much. Her mouth opened and closed as she stared at the mummy, who looked as a mummy should look, except she knew Mandy hadn't been remarking about the condition of the body. Unlike Tutankhamun, Atem had been properly mummified and would likely prove to be perfectly intact upon closer electronic examination.

What she had meant was the funerary mask. It was made of gold, endowed with lapis stones, and various other precious jewels and it was in absolutely _perfect_ condition. It looked almost as shiny as the day it had been placed over the pharaoh's head and face. Sarah reached out to the mask, hesitating several times, before she finally allowed her fingertips to rest on one golden cheek. The warmth of it surprised her. She bit down on her lower lip to prevent the sting of tears from overwhelming her. _I'm a part of this, I'm a part of you, _this whole moment seem to say, as if there was a silent exchange happening between herself and the centuries dead man. She hadn't felt this way since… She had never felt this way.

After taking a few pictures of it, Mandy idly inserted the tip of a pinky beneath the edge of the mask, to see if she could lift it. To her surprise, the mask was lighter than it appeared. Reaching out instinctively to catch hold of it with both hands, she beseeched Sarah's help with a look, and together the women brought it over to a corner of the lab, and set it down on the largest counter. As they made their way back to where the mummy lay, Mandy spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was the lid to the sarcophagus, set up on its back from when they'd turned and set it down.

"Hold up." She came closer and leaned down to squint. "Dr. Chanson, come take a look at this. There's an inscription carved into the underside of the lid." Reaching into her pocket, she plucked out her camera again, adjusted it, and began surreptitiously taking photos. Stepping aside when her boss approached, she occupied the time Sarah took studying the marks by taking shots of the mummy in his last resting container and every square inch of the sarcophagus so no angle went undocumented. Later it would be thanks to Amanda Hawkins that Pharaoh Atem wound up being the mummy with the most photographs on record.

"…This is very strange," the older woman murmured. "Very strange."

Mandy paused and turned to stare at the professor. "What's strange?"

"This inscription. It's… I can't explain it." Sarah was shaking her head unconsciously. She removed both gloves and the face mask so she could take a closer look without any of her senses impeded. Tracing the marks with her finger, she began to speak aloud her mental observations. "It looks like it must have been made after the creation of the sarcophagus. It almost seems like it was carved in a hurry."

Mandy stopped taking pictures and appeared beside her mentor. "What does it say?"

Sarah studied the writing for several more minutes, following it with her fingers like a blind woman reading Braille. She found that by touching the ancient written language, for some reason it enabled her to understand it better, almost as if it were a second yet long forgotten tongue. There was no explaining for why that was. When she was sure of each and every word, she began to speak.

Mandy waited until Sarah was silent again before saying, "That's awesome and all but I'm afraid my ancient Egyptian is a _little_ rusty."

Her mind on the lid in front of her, Sarah straightened up and rubbed the small of her back absently. "It sounds like some kind of spell. But, roughly translated, it says:

'_Return from the Field of Reeds, Son of Re  
to Walk with Us beneath the Eye of Horus  
Go forth before the End of Darkness  
and the Beginning of the Light  
For you have been the Sacrifice  
Live and Love again, Brother  
And Be Well.'"_

"Aww," crooned Mandy, having rested her head on her hands, propped up by her elbows. She was genuinely moved. "That is _so_ sweet. Are you sure it's not a poem?"

Sarah nodded. "Ancient Egyptian poetry isn't written like this. There's a tone of command here, as if the person who wrote it meant for it to be obeyed. Yet whoever wrote it must have also felt some sort of affection for the pharaoh, because it calls him 'brother' and seems to be releasing him from a past obligation… a past sacrifice." Sarah exhaled loudly and squeezed the space between her eyes together. A migraine from too much thinking and too little sleep was pounding against her skull like a jackhammer. "Nnngh, this isn't my area of expertise."

Mandy rose up, brightening. "Hey, I know who can help us! Want me to shoot Rebecca Hopkins an e-mail? She's just getting into the field, and even though she's young, she's got a good eye for interpreting spells, or so I've heard."

Sarah stretched and began to yawn. "If you think it'll help. Make sure she knows this is an unofficial consultation." Mandy nodded. Satisfied, Sarah flicked out her arm to yank up the sleeve of her shirt to glance at the time on her watch. "Okay! Let's tuck Mr. Atem in and go home. We can finish the prelim in the morning when we're both fresh. Oh," she added with a sly wink, "and you _are_ bringing the doughnuts this time."

"They have _doughnuts_ in _Cairo_?"

"Sure. It's a modern city."

"Do I _have_ to?"

"Yes. I got them last time. Give and take, honey, it _is_ how this internship thing works."

Mandy sighed in defeat. "All _right_." _But I bet you she just made that up_, she grumbled inwardly.

Much later as they headed back to the motel, before they parted ways to their separate rooms for the night, Mandy piped, "Oh hey, what if it's like one of those curse things and that's a spell that's supposed to bring him back from the dead?"

Sarah was feeling just tired enough to find that funny, and laughed. "You watch _way_ too many movies, kiddo." She ran her card key through its slot and opened the door. "Good night."

"Night."


	3. Death is Only the Beginning

"**Death is Only the Beginning"**

In the beginning, there was darkness; suffocating, stale darkness, heavy with musk and thick with dust, wrapping around his body like a vice, crushing both his heart and lungs. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing. His breath, shortened, hollowed, echoed in the small space he was trapped in, and gusted back hot and damp against his face. Immediately he held his breath as a row of panicked thoughts fired through his brain.

_It didn't work? _It couldn't have been - It _shouldn't_ have been possible! Had Zorc won? Was this death? _No!_ He refused to believe it. He had _defeated_ his enemy! _He was dead!_ He'd seen Bakura fall, he was sure of it! _What had happened, what had gone wrong? Was it all for nothing? Was condemning my soul to this… for _nothing_? NO! NOOOO! _

Stricken with panic, his hands shot out to claw desperately at his prison. When the ceiling wouldn't give, he pushed and struggled, kicking up with his knees, the effort proving to be futile since there wasn't enough room for him to lift his feet. Enraged that the vessel around him would not give, driven by the frantic momentum of one who knows he is about to suffocate to death, he gave a great roar of rage and threw both of his fists forward. He was shocked when the force of the double punch broke the top of his small prison. For a brief moment it rose into the air, almost as if suspended, before shifting sideways, clanging against something metallic before falling away to clatter noisily to the floor. Shooting up into a sitting position, he gulped in the sweet, life-giving air, sucking it in gratefully through his nose and mouth, his chest heaving up and down. Fervently he thanked the gods for their mercy over and over again in hushed whispers of gratitude. Closing his eyes, he ran both hands down his face and neck, pausing over his heart, before he opened his eyes again. He looked down at himself and stared in pure mystification.

He was wearing his funeral clothes and jewels. _Why would I be wearing these if I'm not dead? _At last,he finally took stock of his surroundings, and was stunned by what he saw, and by what he _didn't_ see. If this was supposed to be a temple, then it was like no temple he had ever been in before. Most of the objects surrounding him were totally alien, all gleaming metals and hard surfaces made of materials his mind could not identify. The air was a cocktail of scents his nose sampled before delivering the messages to his brain as unknown. The only illumination in the dark room was the bars of light falling in many long, thin horizontal shafts between the Venetian blinds. Of course, he didn't know what Venetian blinds were. It was deathly quiet. There were distant sounds, but again, his mind could not tell him what they were, or whether they were coming or going.

Deciding he wasn't going to find out anything by just sitting there, he prepared to move. Gradually and cautiously, he pushed up with his hands, lifting one leg carefully over the side of the casket, and then the other. Taking note the distance to the floor from where he had lain, he swung one leg over and slid down. He gasped when the table chose to shift slightly then, and he lost his balance. With an audible yelp, he suddenly found himself sitting on a very hard, very cold floor which was amazingly smooth and shiny, created of a type of stone he had never seen before. Nearby was the lid; a thin crack ran down the middle and it was chipped on one side from its short fall. He crawled over to it and examined it, running his hand over the carved symbols and words. Then he snapped his neck up to stare at the open sarcophagus on the table. A dawning feeling of horror threatened to overtake his senses.

Had someone attempted to bury him _alive_? If so, then who had done it? And for that matter, who had rescued him? Involuntarily he began to run his hands up and down his bare arms. Never in his life had he felt such a chill. As he attempted to warm himself, he continued to look around. The floor was a mess, as if something had exploded, leaving dust, powdery materials, and pieces of musty-smelling debris everywhere. Pushing to his feet, he was shocked when his legs wobbled and folded beneath him instantly. Flailing wildly, he pitched forward frenetically to catch himself on the table across from him. The burden of his weight pressing against the edge made the table slide across the floor, leaving behind a squeak and a light skid mark. Frowning, he worked his way over to the other side of the room, careful to go bit by bit. He made sure to keep a firm hold on every chair and table. By the time he reached his destination on steadier legs, he finally recognized what it was that had drawn his attention.

Several canopic jars sat lined up beside one another on a table attached to a wall. Each one had been opened and all were empty. Their lids lay neatly upside down and behind each jar. Far from being comforted by the discovery, he began to experience the beginnings of trepidation. Without a doubt, there was a heinous underbelly to what had happened to him here and he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it. Making his way back to where the sarcophagus lay, he reached down, picked its long lid up with some difficulty, and hefted it unceremoniously onto the empty table with a heavy thud. He had to stop for a minute and clutch at the table, breathing hard. _What is wrong with me? _He frowned, concerned, looking at one of his hands, opening and closing it, working, flexing the fingers. _I used to be able to pick up grown men and haul them over my shoulder and now… now I'm weaker than a kitten! _

After regaining his second wind, he proceeded to inspect the lid as well as he could under the dim lighting. Eventually, he nodded to himself, satisfied. Yes, this was _his_ sarcophagus there was no doubt about it. His full god name, his paternity, and his age were in scripted for all to see. But why did it say he had died? Why did everything indicate…? His thoughts stopped when he saw a copy of the _Book of the Dead_ lying in his sarcophagus. It was in very poor condition, as if it had aged and weathered over a period of not just years, but _centuries_. The coffin itself was in poor order too, at least, it appeared as aged as the rest of what he'd seen, including the canopic jars.

_None of this makes sense. I remember when these were made. They could not deteriorate so quickly in that amount of time no matter _how_ battered they got._ Shaking his head, he turned the sarcophagus lid over… and what he saw carved there nearly made his heart stop - again.

Murmuring a fervid prayer, and making the signs against evil with his hands, he backed up, shaking his head in disbelief. _He promised me he wouldn't use that spell on us - on _anyone_! He _promised_ me! _His progress was halted when his back smushed against the blinds, pushing them flat against the window behind him. The rattling sound they made startled him and he leapt away with a strangled cry, staring at them wild-eyed, watching them sway harmlessly back and forth.

That was the last straw. The ancient pharaoh lifted his hands and grabbed two handfuls of his unruly blond forelocks. He bit his lips together and whimpered, hunching his shoulders together, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "No…" he murmured despondently, mewling aloud in fear. "This cannot be real. This _cannot_ have happened!"

It took him a long moment of moaning and swaying back and forth on his unsteady feet. Then slowly, slowly, he calmed, and he came to grips with himself. Finally, with a hard mental slap of self-rebuke, he straightened his posture to its tallest and forced his face, mind, and body into a mask of iron resolve. He would bear with this and face it no matter what new troubles lay in store for him. He was a _pharaoh, _the living god of his people! For the sake of himself he needed to start acting like it and _not_ like a frightened little child!

_I have been through worse than this. I have fought against the most horrible of evils, suffered the most unbearable of sorrows, and borne the greatest of pains. If what has happened is what I _think_ has happened then nothing in this world can frighten me again._

It took him a minute to figure out how the blinds worked, and a second to yank on the string that pulled them all the way up. He stood closer to the window, his breathing ghosting on the glass. He let his gaze go all the way to the rosy dawn colored horizon. When he saw the tall buildings, the bright lights, the moving traffic below, his mind stuck; his eyes dilated in the darkness, and his jaw began to slowly drop. Every bit of his previous conviction dissolved into nothing.

"_Where in the names of all the gods am I?" _he whispered, pressing his palms against the glass.


	4. Speak My Name and I Shall Live Again

"**Speak My Name and I Shall Live Again"**

"…So it is seven banana-cream éclairs and eight plain glazed doughnuts or eight banana-cream éclairs with chocolate topping and three powered doughnuts? Oh, do you want orange juice, because you should really start cutting back on the caffeine…"

Sarah threw back her head in exasperation as she pushed through the heavy revolving door of the museum. She was trying to do that, walk, hold a mobile phone to her ear, and manage a thick manila folder taller than the width of her arm all at the same time.

Mandy continued to chatter. "…I know you love your morning coffee, but it's in my professional, educated opinion that you need to cut back, so I thought…."

_Oh my god, this has to stop, or I'm going to kill her or… or smash my phone beneath my foot! _"Mandy, Mandy, _Mandy_," she groaned aloud. "Stop obsessing, _please_, grab whatever you want, _I don't care_, just pick up food because if I don't eat something soon I'm going to be a bitch on wheels all day."

There was a long pause. "…So we're good on the orange juice?"

Sarah stopped in the middle of the lobby to get her bearings, waving at a few colleagues that were just walking into work. "Mandy," she began sick-sweetly, as she started for the elevator, "my darling, _wonderful_ assistant, if you forget so much as _one drop of coffee_, I will mummify you alive… and that's a _promise_." She pushed the button to her floor, and leaned against the wall of the elevator, closing her eyes. Being back in her nice comfortable bed would be so nice right about now, if it weren't for the pressing matters of the day. _I'll sleep after I'm dead at this rate. _

Stunned silence greeted the end of that threat. Sarah bit back a laugh. She rarely got harsh with Mandy, and the times she did, it was always a mystery as to how the younger woman would react. Sometimes she took her mentor too seriously, other times she would laugh and get the joke. Mandy tended to fluctuate wildly to the extremes so there was never any predicting just what she would do, say, or think.

"Just don't entomb me with my Duel Monster cards," Mandy said suddenly after a short pause. "I promised my little brother he could have them."

Sarah burst out laughing, pressing the thick folder against her white iron-pressed cotton blouse with her free arm to prevent its contents from spilling out over the floor. "Okay," she compromised. "I give in. Does hot tea meet with your dietary requirements?"

"Less caffeine than coffee… Mmm, yes it does!" Mandy crowed triumphantly. "Gotta go! See you in a few minutes, bye-bye!" Click.

Sarah sighed, smiled, and slid the phone back into the small holster in her belt. That girl had more stamina and adrenaline in her blood than most professional athletes did. If there was a way to exist as a physical manifestation of pure energy, Amanda Hawkins would be it. _Ah_ _youth!_ She mused wistfully, stepping through the elevator doors when they opened to her floor. _What would I give if I could run around the way she does! I think I'd be queen of the archeology world – or at the very least, the director of it._ _Yeah, big dreams, Sarah, big dreams_!

Pilfering the keys to her lab out of her pocket, Sarah nodded to the security officer patrolling the hall, and then to the identification badge she'd pinned to the pocket of her Capri khakis. He smiled, made a show of looking at it, and continued down another hallway. Pausing in front of the laboratory, she unlocked the door, leaning against it with her hip to open it as she peeled through the papers in the folder she held. Finding the one she had been digging for, she quickly put the folder down on the counter top closest to the door, and dropped the keys on top of it. "Shit!" Her glasses fell out of her breast pocket and slid across the slick floor. Exhaling her irritation, she brushed a lock of her silver-white hair out of the way, before going over to pick them up. _I need to put these damn things on a necklace, looking like an old lady be damned!_

Before her hand closed around the errant spectacles, another hand, brown, male, and wearing a gold ring, did. When she looked up, it was into the crimson-brown eyes of a young man. Sarah gasped and shot backward, her hand going over her heart as she retreated. Wide-eyed, she could only stare as he continued to straighten his posture, staring back with just as much hidden terror and curiosity as she did.

"How did you get in here?" Sarah heard herself blurt in a rushed, breathless sentence, even as her eyes took in the details of his features. His eyes were outlined thickly with kohl, clear tan skin and unruly blond forelocks framed a sharp, angular face. The rest of his mane was a mass of black spikes that appeared to shine a faint red when the light hit them just so. He was dressed as if he'd stepped off one of the wall paintings in the tombs; resplendent in gold ringlets, armlets and a large bejeweled gold collar. He appeared to be in his early twenties, though it was hard to say, considering how short he was, though not for nothing, he was incredibly well-built for a slender guy. And he was beautiful. Sarah never thought she could call a man beautiful until now. _Good god, I'd go cougar for this one in a heartbeat!_ a naughty voice spoke from the back of her mind, but she ignored it, knowing it was just hormones talking. _He looks so familiar.._.

As they continued to stare at one another, the strange young man tried to offer her glasses to her, a diffident smile making his lips twitch involuntarily. Sarah reached out to them and after several hesitations, snatched them out of his hand. "How did you get in here?" she repeated more insistently, a little angrier. "No one without security clearance is allowed up in the labs."

He didn't answer, just continuing to stare at her, tilting his head to the side just so.

_Maybe he doesn't understand English_. So she tried Arabic, in the two dialects she was fluent in, but he only continued to stare at her blankly. Finally, giving up, just for the hell of it, she tried the high speech of ancient Egypt. "Who are you?" she asked.

He lit up! "I am Atem," he replied, with a formal incline of his head, shocking her. "I have not had the pleasure of encountering one of the white skin races before. You are very beautiful." She blushed, not having expected him to say that, of all things. "Please, can tell me what has happened to me? And where I am?"

Sarah opened and closed her mouth, completely not prepared for the barrage of questions. As she tried to put together some sort of reply, her eyes had caught sight of the sarcophagus behind him. The top was lying on one of the tables, chipped and with a crack down its middle. The floor around the table with the casket was covered with debris and dust, as if something had exploded outward from the center. As her eyes continued to float around the lab, she noticed that some of it was in disarray. Textbooks had been removed from the shelves and stacked haphazardly in places, as if someone had taken them out to look through them. The blinds were drawn up so far, sunlight completely flooded the lab. The tops to all of the canopic jars had been removed. But that wasn't what was the oddest part of all, oh no. It was what _wasn't_ inside of the sarcophagus that made her gaze return speedily to the man standing eagerly before her, waiting for her to answer his questions.

_He said his name was Atem_.

The gears in her head began to turn, grinding, and the pallor began to go out of her face.

No.

NO.

Sarah took first one step back from him, then another, both of her hands clutched over her heart in sheer terror. As she moved toward the threshold to the open door, Mandy suddenly popped up behind her, her arms clutching a box of doughnuts and two Styrofoam cups of tea steadied on top as she pushed past her mentor to set the things down. "I didn't know what kind of tea you liked so I-" Looking up, she stopped dead, staring at the pharaoh with wide brown eyes. "Oh my god."

The strange man's reaction to Mandy was oddly familiar. He smiled, began to come toward her, and exclaimed happily, "Mana!"

Mandy's eyes widened even more and she screamed. Fumbling with her neckline, she managed to rip off the large glittery gold cross she always wore and held it out before her as a ward and began backing away. She pushed Sarah behind her, who didn't object, complicit as she was in her shock. "Stay back buddy!" Then she closed her eyes and began to chant something in Latin. When she opened her eyes, he was still standing here, staring at her, a look of complete perplexity on his face. Then he reached out and took hold of the cross.

When he did that, Mandy screamed again, left the cross dangling in his hand, and proceeded to push Sarah out of the room as he looked on. At last Sarah came to her senses and began to protest. "What on earth are you doing?" _And since when does she know Latin? I thought she only wore that necklace because her grandmother left it to her._

Mandy shook her head stubbornly, her mouth a grim line. "That guy is the Devil, Sarah."

This was ridiculous. "How do you know that?"

Mandy successfully got Sarah out of the room (she was always freakishly strong) and pulled the door closed after them and locking it behind them with her copy of the lab key. "I don't, but whatever he is, he is _not_ for real." Finally she looked up, her eyes shining with inspiration. "We have to find a priest!"

That was the last straw. Sarah seized Mandy by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Get a hold of yourself! I don't think this is anything evil. I don't know _what_ it is but… but whatever it is, unless someone is playing a nasty trick on us, I…" Sarah seemed to lose focus for a moment, staring into the distance, as if at something far off. "I think we need to accept this for what it appears to be."

Mandy shrugged out of her mentor's grip, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Puh-_lease_, you don't honestly believe that guy actually rose from the dead do you?"

_You believed in something enough to whip out a cross and start chanting prayers! _Instead of saying this_, _Sarah put one hand on her hip. "You _are_ the one who brought it up last night, Amanda," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Oh come on!" More eye-rolling. "You _know_ I wasn't being serious!"

"And yet apparently you were because, well," Sarah gestured helplessly at the locked room behind them, "can you explain _that_ any other way?"

"Sarah!"

"Mandy!"

They both shrieked when an almost polite sounding knock tapped from the other side of the door. Glancing at one another again, Sarah lowered her voice, her tone hurried and hushed.

"Listen, I have an idea. It's a long shot, and maybe we'll both wind up looking like idiots, but I want to try it." Sarah pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial.

Mandy stamped one foot and huffed in frustration. "This is crazy," she muttered under her breath.

"But it's better to have answers than no answers at all," Sarah replied as she waited for the other end to pick up, "and I think there are a few people on this planet that might be crazy enough to have them."


	5. Happiness is a Cup of Tea

"**Happiness is a Cup of Tea"**

"Look at this!" Malik gestured at the television where it was tuned in to CNN. "I never thought archeology could be so… so disgusting!"

Isis looked up calmly from the heavy scrolls laid at before her on the table in the kitchen where the three Ishtars had gathered for the morning. A rare, wry smile perked the corners of her mouth upward. "Is it so?" When he glanced at her in confusion, his eyes widened at her amused expression. Backpedalling, he waved a hand at her. "I don't mean _you're_ disgusting, Sis. You brought the tablets back to Egypt and returned them to their rightful place… Oh would you _stop_ giving me that look!"

The Egyptian woman's smile only grew. She elegantly perched her chin on one hand, her blue eyes sparkling with uncommon merriment. "I will when you stop acting so ridiculous." Sighing, Isis carefully rolled the scroll she was perusing, and tied it closed with a length of twine. "Unfortunately there is nothing more to be gleaned from our collection that advises about what to do with them should the Items not be destroyed – or if they are even a threat anymore." She rubbed the space between her almond shaped eyes with a single, slender digit. "I had not anticipated this."

Malik rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, duh, none of us did! But now that the Items have been discovered by _Dr. Chanson_," he spoke her name with a resentful, mocking tone, "there's no telling whose hands they'll fall into now. At best they'll just wind up behind glass at the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities for visitors to gawk at for the next several years." Malik shuddered as he slid in the seat across the table from his sister. Resting his forehead against the palm of his hand, he waved the other at Rishid, who had remained silently standing nearby since they'd arrived home from the dig site. "Turn that crap off. I've dealt with enough of that for one day."

Rishid located the remote and wordlessly did as he was told. To Isis, he spoke softly, but gravely, as was his way. "What should we do?"

Isis folded her hands before her in a pyramid, frowning thoughtfully into the distance. "At present nothing. Pharaoh's sarcophagus has been exhumed and is being examined as we speak. If we move against Dr. Chanson and her company, even covertly, we will be first on their list of suspects." She closed her eyes to hold back the sadness. "I would rather our family not be embarrassed further by this than it already has been."

"That's being rather harsh," Malik objected, leaning on his elbow, slumping forward in his chair grumpily. "For the most part, we've gotten plenty of sympathy."

Isis nodded, lowering her hands so they rested atop one another. "Nonetheless, I would rather, what is that old saying, we keep our noses clean. I will continue my communications with Dr. Chanson." At her brother's frown, she added. "I know you don't trust her. So far she has been very open and forthcoming with us about how things are proceeding. She does seem genuinely trustworthy to me. Unfortunately for her she is too much in the media spotlight, and I cannot risk allowing the wrong kind of information to get out."

Mailk snorted. "Good luck with that. She was having a field day with that chain attached to the Puzzle when we last saw her. She suspects the Items had been removed from the tomb in the past and then inexplicably returned." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "She's right of course, and I would just let her make all the guesses she wants about it, if she wouldn't keep _insisting_ that I explain to her where the chain came from." Malik groaned. "She knows we all know more than we're telling."

Rishid lowered his chin. "Don't we?"

Isis sat back in her chair, allowing her shoulder blades to sink into the padded cushion against her stiff muscles. Her arms draped over the armrests wearily. "What is there for her to know when she can do nothing with the information?" The head of the Ishtar clan slowly shook her head, still thinking out loud. "Come what may, we will have to be ready for it. It is up to us to make sure that evil doesn't free itself once more."

Malik sat up straight. "Would it really matter?" he said at length.

Isis blinked. "What would what really matter?" To Rishid, "Could you put on some tea please?" Rishid nodded and began moving around their small kitchen, secretly grateful at having been given something to do.

Malik waved a hand to illustrate whatever it was he was talking about. "I mean, no offense to Atem, but evil is going to exist in the world with or without His Majesty's interference. If you ask me, he's the one who got the better end of the deal when he lost the Ceremonial Duel. He gets to go off to paradise while the rest of us have to suffer through life, grow old, and die. I always knew the guy was a punk ass, but really…" He winked.

That curious and affectionate smile touched upon Isis's face once more, and as she exchanged glances with Rishid, she thought she caught a little smirk curl the corners of the usually stoic man's mouth. Despite his crassness, it was wonderful to have the Malik they both loved back again. He remained as tactless as ever but the bitter youth he had been had vanished along with his insanity. So far there was no trace of it and, as time went on, they grew more and more confident Malik at last could continue to be the happy and life-affirming person they always knew he was.

They passed the next few minutes in companionable silence interrupted only by the gentle clatter of Rishid moving around the kitchen. He set teacups in front of his brother and sister before proceeding to pour. Malik picked up his teacup and delicately sipped it. His head jerked back in astonishment. "Holy Moses, where did you get this from, Rishid?"

One had to know Rishid well to be able to see the disappointment in his placid expression. "You don't like it?"

Isis sipped the tea too and had a milder reaction, blinking in genuine surprise, staring into her cup, her gaze wide-eyed. "_Karkady_?" she murmured.

Malik tried it again, this time with more care. "No! It's good, really good. Better. It's just… I've never had _karkady_ that tasted this good before." He cut his older brother a sly look. "Have you been holding back on us, Rishid?"

Unruffled, Rishid 's response was smooth. "Perhaps a little." Then he shocked them both by winking. Malik and Isis stared at him for a long time before suddenly bursting into laughter. Even Rishid chuckled. After a time they calmed down and resumed sipping their tea.

"How did you learn to make it this way?" Isis asked, reaching to take the teapot so she could pour herself another cup.

Without looking at either one of them, Rishid lifted the dainty edge of the cup to his lips. "Mother taught me," he murmured softly.

Malik and Isis exchanged looks, full of gentle surprise and sorrow, and yet it was displaced with a quietly glowing happiness. Malik was the first to lower his eyes to cover the fact they had begun to mist a little. He had never known his mother, since she had died after giving birth to him. Rishid had been close to the woman who had raised him. She had been the one to teach his two older siblings how to love in all the ways their tyrannical father had been unable to show them after her death. That Rishid felt comfortable sharing this part of her with them… It meant more to Malik than he could express in words.

"Rishid."

The older man watched his younger brother quietly, waiting. "Yes?"

"Could you… Would you teach me?"

Isis could not lift her eyes from her hands but she murmured, "Please."

Rishid smiled another one of his rare gentle smiles that was becoming more and more frequent these days. "Of course."

It was a heartfelt moment for a little family that had known so little happiness and joy. They were startled by the sudden insistent ringing of a mobile phone. All three Ishtars went for their pockets.

"Is it me?"

"Is it you?"

"It's me." Isis opened her phone and answered it. "Hello?" A faint flicker of a frown marred her lovely face. "Yes?" she said guardedly, holding up one finger to still Malik when he started to stand up, before flattening her hand and lowering it, which he grudgingly obeyed, folding his arms petulantly over his chest. She did all this without even looking at him, which for some reason made him feel even more peevish. Was his fuse really _that_ short?

"Slow down, I'm having difficulty understanding you." Then Isis spoke through her teeth impatiently, ignoring her fuming sibling. "SLOW DOWN." Long pause. "Just take deep breaths. Now, please, repeat what you just told me." Another long pause. Isis startled her brothers when she shoved back her chair and stood up, making the dishware on the table rattle loudly. Her face had gone pale and her blue eyes had grown bright with shock and disbelief. "WHAT?" she yelled, startling her brothers so badly, they both jumped. For a long time, Isis didn't move, listening intently to whatever the caller was saying. Gradually her expression began to harden, the determination that filled her eyes reminiscent of the way she looked when she dueled. Malik and Rishid grew tense, exchanging meaningful looks. At last, Isis took a deep, cleansing breath. "Assure my passage," she ordered calmly, "and I will be there right away. Do not tell anyone else about this." Finally Isis hung up, put down the mobile, closed her eyes, and rested both palms flat on the table top. Neither of her brothers prompted her, waiting with baited breath for her to tell them whatever it was that happened.

After what seemed an eternity, Isis opened her eyes. "That was Dr. Chanson. It seems our Pharaoh has risen from the dead."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Karkady _as it's known by its Arabic name is a bright red tea made from hibiscus. It is very popular in Egypt and Sudan. It's usually served cold, and with ice. It can also be served warm in the winter time._


	6. The Son of Re

"**The Son of Re"**

After Sarah got off the phone with Isis, she let out a short breath of relief. It would be premature for her to assume that Ms. Ishtar would know what to do or even what was going on anymore than she or Mandy did. But the way she had sounded on the phone - terse, confident and determined - relaxed something in the archeologist for some reason. Any way you wanted to look at it, help was on the way, and if not that, then, well, at least _someone_ was coming who had _some_ idea of what might be going on! The very fact Isis was so quick to drop everything and move to action continued to feed the seed of suspicion that had germinated in Sarah's mind since the excavation began. That the Ishtars knew more than what they had been letting her in on and they more than likely knew what was going on now.

"What did she say?" Mandy asked edgily, wringing and twisting her fingers together into painful looking knots. Her eyes were wild and unfocused; she appeared ready to fly to pieces any minute.

"She's coming." Sarah replied as she began to dial again. Mandy visibly relaxed. "I have to call a cab company now." Her heart began to sink a bit as she realized what that was going to mean for them.

Unfortunately Mandy picked up on it, and her face fell. She glanced uneasily toward the lab they had locked the pharaoh inside. "What are we supposed to do until then? Just _stand_ out here?" She waved her arms. "What if the director comes by? Or worse security? What do we tell them, that there's an ancient Egyptian pharaoh in our lab, and we're just waiting for the creepy tomb keeper lady to come and get him?"

_One crisis at a time, Mandy, I'm still in the middle of this one_. Instead Sarah put her finger to her lips, trying to hide a smile, and turned her back to wander down the hall so she could arrange the pick up in silence and privacy. Impatiently Mandy folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the opposite wall, huffing in annoyance. She jerked when another, still polite sounding, knock came from the other side of the door. Nervously she glanced at it, and then again at her professor who was still on the phone. Her back was turned and she seemed engrossed with whatever she was discussing. "Um, Sarah…?" she implored timidly, softly. Looking back at the door, she swallowed, waiting for the bomb to drop. Several more minutes elapsed, but there was no more knocking.

This was why the sudden, familiar sounds of someone unlocking the door scared the living bejesus out of her. "SARAH!" she shrieked, seizing the gradually turning knob in a death grip. "He's trying to get out!"

Sarah whirled, saw what was happening, gasped, and rushed to assist Mandy in holding the door shut. "Shit! He must have found my keys!"

"Your _keys_?" Mandy was two octaves short of hysterical. "You left your _keys_ in there? How could you leave your keys?"

Sarah was too freaked out to be sensible, and busy trying to help hold the door closed, to react logically. "I forgot, okay!" she hissed. "There were a couple of _other_ things distracting me at the time, in case you've failed to notice!"

Abruptly the struggle to open the door ceased. Both women froze, hands still clutching the knob, as a soft yet commanding voice, slightly muffled, spoke through from the other side of the door. "Hello? Have I done something wrong? Why do you imprison me? I apologize for frightening you." He sounded hurt, lonely even. "I certainly do not have the intention to do you harm. I am very confused about all of this. Please? May we speak? I beg of you?"

Still hanging on to the door, Sarah and Mandy exchanged looks. Being the one of the two who didn't understand what had been said, Mandy fiercely shook her head _no_, mouthing the word at the same time. She wasn't going to trust what she clearly thought was a plea to false innocence. However, Sarah, who _had_ understood their captive, had a different reaction. She canted her head to the side, a frank "Come on be reasonable" expression on her face. Mandy stuck out her chin, refusing to budge. Sarah shifted her profile so that she was directly facing her student, her patient look now one of silent reproach. Mandy scrunched up her face in a whiny way but Sarah shook her head, narrowing her eyes. She was adamant. At last, Mandy let out a soft groan, and conceded with a harsh fast whisper of, "Okay but I reserve the right to haunt you in hell!" before releasing the knob at the same time Sarah did.

"You may open the door." Sarah spoke, covering her unease with false effrontery. "When you have done so step away from it."

Tentatively the door opened, at first a crack, before the strange man opened it all the way. He backed away apprehensively as they approached. Mandy brought up the rear, warily, while Sarah strode forward with a class act air of confidence she was quite certain she deserved an Academy Award for. From the oddly fearful way his eyes darted from first her and then to Mandy, she began to realize that the both of them were probably as alien, and as frightening, to him as he was to them. Sarah stuck her hand out behind her to show Mandy that she wanted her to hang back, which she did instantly. She had the presence of mind to close the door behind them.

Standing before the young man, she took a deep breath, debating. How to show him that they meant him no harm in return? An idea lit on in her head, and she pounced upon it. _Well, this is going to be a new experience for me,_ she thought with a faint, ironic smile.

Slowly, and carefully, Sarah sank to her knees, leaned forward, and placed each palm flat on either side of her head, and bowed before the pharaoh. "Please I beg you to forgive our reactions. We had not expected to see you and we did not know who you were." A lie, but only partially, because, well, who expected to see, or recognize, someone who was supposed to have been dead for 3000 years, alive in their lab? "If you will be patient with us, we may be able to figure out what is going on." Behind her, she heard Mandy scramble to assume the same position, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. They both probably looked absolutely ridiculous.

When she dared to peek up at the pharaoh, he seemed… perturbed, for the lack of a better word. "You are a slave then?" he asked, looking very confused. "You are not in charge?"

_Oops_. Sarah quickly rose to her feet, absently brushing at her pants. Mandy did the same. "No, oh no," she replied, trying to think of how to explain to him so that he would understand. "I am not a slave, but I _am_ in charge here." Okay, that was stretching it a bit, and the light snort she heard from behind her attested the slip hadn't gone unnoticed. _Boy, Mandy is going to be giving me so much grief about this later._ "My name is Dr. Sarah Chanson. You may call me Sarah. This," she indicated her assistant, who refused to move from her place by the door, "is my assistant, Amanda Hawkins. She answers to Mandy." Mandy nodded once in greeting, unsmilingly, and continued to stay back. "If it would please you, I will explain to you where you are and how you got here." Pause. "You said your name was Atem?"

"Yes."

"Is… that your full name?"

"No." He looked worried. "Must I tell you the whole thing?"

"No." Sarah was hasty, not really knowing why she had asked in the first place. "I was just double-checking." Sarah noticed he constantly kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, and that he discreetly would twitch and rotate his shoulders every few moments. It was the collar, most likely, that was probably irritating the hell out of him. Moving to retrieve the cushy office chair from her desk, she gestured that he could sit down. Relief filled his eyes and he did so with a murmur of thanks. "Is this bothering you?" she asked, pointing to the collar. He studied her for a second and then nodded. Without being prompted she knelt and examined the collar and frowned after several moments of scrutiny. "How do you take it off?" _Wait…_ "I see, I think… Ah!" There was a kind of audible clicking sound that issued from the collar when her fingers found the release clasp. It came apart in two pieces, which she handed off to Mandy who had come over to watch the process. Gazing at the pieces in each of her hands, the young woman's eyes glittered with pure wonder. "These are gorgeous!" she gushed, barely able to restrain a girlish squeal as she set them down on the table beside the doughnut box. She grabbed one of the teas, which was still hot, and opened the plastic top. It was evident she was starting to relax if she felt comfortable enough to start on their interrupted breakfast, something Sarah was heartily grateful for. Dealing with an agitated Mandy was always a chore.

"What did she say?" Atem asked glancing at Sarah, who just smiled and replied. "She likes your collar."

Atem reached up and massaged the skin around his stiff throat and collarbone. "She may keep it. It is part of my funerary attire and I soonest not wear it again." He frowned. "I do not know why I was wearing it, or this," he swept a gaze down his front, "attire, if I am still alive."

Sarah stared at the pharaoh. Kneeling beside him again, she gently laid one hand on his elbow. If it offended him that she would touch his royal person without his permission, he didn't seem to care. At length, after gathering her thoughts, Sarah waited for him to lift his head before beginning.

"I'm not sure of what's happened, or why, but I will tell you what I know to be true." Sarah took a deep breath. "I should begin by telling you where you are. This room we are in is called a _laboratory_, and the building we are in is called a _museum_. The purpose of a _museum_ is to allow the public – the ordinary citizens – to see samples of the preserved history of their country, and of the world."

Atem absorbed that. "And of Kemet?"

"We are still in Kemet," at this confirmation he visibly relaxed, "though that is no longer what the country is called. Today the world calls Kemet _Egypt_. It's a part of what is called _Northern Africa_. Currently we reside in what is called the capital of Egypt, a city called _Cairo_."

"_Cairo_." Atem seemed to take this okay too. "I still do not understand what a _la-bora-tory_ is or what a _mu-se-um_ is you must explain them in more detail later. How did I get here?"

"You were brought here on a machine called a _helicopter_. It flies through the air and carries people and supplies over long distances." The pharaoh leaned forward, appearing perplexed. Delighted by the look in his eyes, Sarah couldn't help a light laugh. "I know, I know, it sounds crazy." Deep breath, round two. "Okay. Where we found you is in the Valley of Kings, and…" Sarah trailed off, realizing what this was going to sound like to him, and that it probably would be better if she created a little distance between their bodies. She braced herself. "We found your tomb and we… we excavated it."

Darkness clouded his face and his eyes narrowed in absolute rage. "You _robbed_ my tomb?" His fingers curled into the cushioned armrests of the chair. It creaked under the strength of his grip – and his fury.

Sarah shook her head, at a loss of how to explain. "It… It's not considered tomb robbing today. Not anymore…"

Atem was outraged. _"What?"_ he shouted, completely livid. "Ke-_Egypt_ _sanctions_ _tomb robbing_? Who is ruler here?"

Sarah opened her and mouth and then closed it, as she realized what she was about to say would sound meaningless to someone like him. Kneeling again, knowing it was best to keep her head lower than his while she tried to think of a way to explain to him what archeology was.

_Why do I have the feeling he's just not going to see it positively no matter how I try to spin it? Ancient Egyptians were a deeply religious people who worshipped the dead and held tombs above most everything else in their lives. In what way can I or anyone make digging into his tomb and taking his body and his things _not_ sound like tomb robbing? _She was beginning to understand the Ishtars a little bit better now.

"Egypt has sanctioned tomb robbing for years only they call it archeology now. Same difference, really."

Everyone turned their heads as Malik walked into the room. His arms were folded across his chest. Mandy stared at him incredulously. "How did you get here so fast?" she exclaimed. "And how did you get past security?"

Malik slid a glare her way. "Isis, Rishid and I were staying at a place we have here in Cairo when Dr. Chanson called. Isis and Rishid took the cab while I grabbed my motorcycle. Obviously you can guess which of the two is faster. As for how I got in…" He flashed his ID badge before tucking it back into his pants. "Our family has always been allowed admittance to this museum's 'secret' rooms. Getting into a lab for us is nothing." He turned a smirk on the dismayed expressions that met that statement. "Yes, you're going to have to deal with me until my more tactful siblings get here." Approaching Atem, he assumed a kneeling position near Sarah, and bowed his head. "Pharaoh," he murmured respectfully, hiding the shock on his face under the curtain of his pale hair.

Atem just stared at him, completely confused. "_Karim_? What have you done to yourself?"

Malik's head snapped up, his face a picture of utter astonishment, before it resumed its usual expression. "Pharaoh, my name is Malik. You do not remember me?" He appeared hurt.

"He called me Mana a little while ago," Mandy piped up around a mouthful of doughnut before she plucked the pastry from her mouth to speak clearly. "Maybe we look like people he knew once?" A dollop of cream fell from the doughnut onto her blouse and she turned her attention to it.

Malik connected gazes with the more regal Atem's. "This is more serious than we thought," he mumbled under his breath.

Sarah poked Malik in the arm, hard, gaining his attention. "Considering that you just asked the pharaoh if he remembered you, you can bet your _ass_ it's more serious than we thought! You knew this would happen!"

Malik spun on her. "No! We thought something _else_ would happen! Not… Not… _this_!" He gestured theatrically at the man sitting in the chair as if he were a display piece and not a person. "I'm just as shocked by this as you are!"

"Bullshit."

Helplessly confused by all of the angry words of English being exchanged between Sarah and the Karim-look-alike, Atem narrowed his eyes, shifting from first Malik, to Sarah, and then, a little more sorrowfully, at Mandy. "I would ask that you please speak Egyptian, as I do not understand your alien tongue." Nor liked it from the resentment that seemed to freeze his features into something terrifying and when he returned this icy look on her, Sarah thought she was going to piss her pants. "And if someone in this room does not start explaining things to me in a _manner that makes even one inch of sense_, I will… I will…!" Atem lifted a fist and brought it down heavily upon the chair with a resounding squeak of plastic. "There is _nothing_ I can do is there?" he ended in frustrated growl, throwing both hands up and launching to his feet. "Clearly none of you truly appreciate nor have any respect for what I am!"

Sarah lowered her head, mouthing the word "Sorry" even as she discreetly watched Malik. He was frowning, seeming bothered by Atem in a way she couldn't pin her finger on. The gears were turning in his head and gradually he gave a tiny nod, as if he had figured something out. Sarah wanted to demand he share his thoughts right then and there, but wisely kept her mouth shut. Some latent instinct of hers was telling her she was in big trouble right now. Little did she know how accurate this feeling would turn out be.

"Atem." Malik began intently. "Before you emerged from your sarcophagus, what is the last thing that you remember?"

Atem blinked, caught off guard, but he did his best to answer Malik's question. "I remember I was battling Zorc. I remember seeing my enemy fall. I remember knowing what I had to do in order to seal him. Mmm…" He closed his eyes, humming, recollecting. "I remember shattering the God Pyramid. I…" His eyes snapped open and he suddenly went pale, very, very pale. He began to sway on his feet and had to collapse into the chair again to prevent his knees from buckling beneath him. A million thoughts cycled in his crimson eyes in a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions. "I died," he breathed, staring straight ahead at nothing, in shock, before bringing his gaze up to meet with Malik's sympathetic one. "I… I split my soul. I had to trap it in my Millennium Item. It…It was the price I had to pay to rid the world of Zorc's evil." His eyes kind of began to bug out and his breath began to shorten. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. "Oh gods, oh gods, it didn't work? Are we…?" He began to glance around frantically. "Am I…? Is _this_…?"

Malik rose to his feet and rested his hands on the panicked man's shoulders, making sure Atem was looking at him. Never in his life did he see someone so ready to fly to pieces. "Calm yourself. It worked, my Pharaoh. Zorc is gone. Bakura is gone. You succeeded." He decided to leave out the part about his spirit's time in the modern world a few years ago. Sadly, it seemed, he carried no memories from that time with him.

Atem steadied, appearing to calm. His breathing slowed, evened. "But if it is so, then why… why am I alive? Why has my _ka_ returned to my body?"

"That is what we are going to find out."

Everyone turned in the direction of the new voice. Isis Ishtar stood at the threshold, Rishid behind her, as she moved into the room with her usual fluid grace. Atem stood again, causing Malik to release him and have to back up. Atem glanced from first Isis and to Rishid. A sad smile flitted across his lips and he shook his head. "I suppose neither of you are the people I think you are too?"

Isis locked gazes with her younger brother in askance. He shook his head. To Atem, she looked again, and replied. "Perhaps. My name is Isis Ishtar and this is my older brother, Rishid. Malik there is my younger brother," she nodded at the light haired youth at his side.

"Isis?" Atem appeared so painfully hopeful now Sarah found she could hardly bear the sight. He went to her and took her hands in his, startling her, and everyone else in the room. "Are you Priestess Isis whom I remember?"

Malik had never remembered a time when Isis cried, but now as he watched her face change, he thought she just might be close to tears. "No, Pharaoh." She was gentle. "I am Isis, the tomb keeper. My predecessor, Priestess Isis, died many millennia ago."

Atem's chin lowered and he slowly released her hands. He looked about to cry, and he nodded without looking up. "I remember her death," he murmured softly. "I-I remember them all." He suddenly looked up, alerted by something she had said. "Many _millennia_?" Sudden understanding seemed to dawn on him. "The inscription on the sarcophagus… my death… I _was_ dead!" He brightened, appearing on the right side of relieved, close to smiling. "It all makes sense now!"

Isis's smooth brow furrowed. "The sarcophagus?"

"Here." Sarah spoke up and pushed the table over so everyone could crowd around it to look. "There's an inscription on the underside of the lid. We discovered it when we broke into the casket." She deliberately ignored the few frosty eye lids lowering she received in lieu. Whatever they wanted to think of her, she didn't care, they needed to know about what had happened.

Isis gazed down at the artifact, touching the carvings as Sarah had done yesterday. She contemplated them silently, before speaking. "Can you read this?" she asked quietly, at Sarah. She nodded. "How?"

"'How?' What do you mean?"

"Did you read it out loud?" Isis emphasized patiently.

"Yes."

"In Egyptian?"

"Yes… Then in English."

Isis sighed, closed her eyes briefly. "All right. I understand what happened." Everyone literally leaned in, curious to know what she had to say. "This spell is the only known incantation for raising the dead that actually works. I have only ever seen this inscription once before. It was years ago, I found a scroll in my father's study that contained several spells. Once my father caught me reading them, he took it from me and burned it before my eyes. I later did some research and discovered from several other scrolls referencing it, that it had been a spell created by Mahaad, though for what purpose, I do not know. However, the hand that carved _this_," she tapped the lid, "belonged to High Priest Set. I recognize his distinctive style." She focused on Atem, whose shuttered expression told her he had suspected this. "It seems you have your former vizier to thank for your resurrection."

"Too bad we can't ask him why." Malik grumbled. "I mean, for what purpose can this serve? Exactly what did he expect for Pharaoh to do? His purpose has already been fulfilled – _twice_ I might add!"

"Twice?" Atem interrupted. "What do you mean twice?" But Malik just closed his mouth, knowing he'd said too much. Unfortunately the ancient Egyptian was not keen on letting this go and rounded on Isis. "What does he mean? Answer!"

Isis looked away and bit her lip. Rishid remained, as ever, still.

Fueled by a sudden surge of annoyance, Sarah smacked the palm of her hand on the metal examination table, making the curved sarcophagus lid wobble back and forth from the vibration. "You three are incredible!" she ground in English. "No more secrets! I'm not going to tell the media about this, you can be certain about that! Who would believe it? Answer his question!"

Isis glanced at her sharply, intense, and responded in same. "I believe you already know more than you ought to, either by accident or by will. You have done enough, Doctor, and you have certainly _said_ enough!"

Sarah's mouth fell open, her outrage potent, her face a testament of fury, and robbed so of her voice, she clenched her fists together at her sides, and shook imperceptibly. "Then what do you plan to do?"

"I plan," Isis began coolly, "to take Atem home with us, as we are the only ones who can fully appreciate his situation and can fully answer his questions _and_ his needs."

Mandy, who felt she had remained silent long enough chose to speak up then. So much going back and forth from English to Egyptian was confusing the girl. "What are we supposed to say what happened to the body then? That we opened the casket and just found a gold mask and a crumpled up old book? Who'd believe that?"

It was Rishid who replied. "If explained the right way, it could be said the mask was placed inside in place of the pharaoh's body. It could be surmised that the body had gone missing and had never been found so to create the illusion of a proper burial, the mask was placed inside." To Sarah he asked, austerely. "Has anyone else other than yourself and your assistant seen the body?"

"No." Sarah replied, appearing somewhat reassured. "But Amanda took pictures."

"Erase them." Isis held out her hand to the student. "Hand over your camera to me so that I can be assured they are gone."

Mandy's face furrowed. "But I copied them to my laptop already! I e-mailed the photos to Rebecca Hopkins last night!"

"Rebecca, huh?" Malik was taking out his phone, and dialing. "Not a problem." Finally someone picked up. "Hey Yuugi, it's Malik. Oh yeah, I'm fine. You? Awesome. Listen, do you have Rebecca Hopkins' mobile?" Long pause as he listened to the recitation and wrote it on the back of his arm. "Thanks. What? No. I don't… Well, you have to turn it and then… No, you don't do that." He felt everyone staring at him and he made an apologetic gesture, mouthing, "He's having a problem" before retreating to the corner of the room for privacy. Meanwhile Mandy glumly handed over her camera to the Egyptian woman. "Will you be deleting everything?" she mumbled sullenly. "I took some really boss pictures of that funerary mask."

"_Everything_." Isis was firm. She pressed a few buttons, waited for the tiny screen to confirm the deletion, and then she handed the camera back to Mandy. "You can take new pictures of it later. We will not be requiring you to cover _everything_ up only the fact that there was a body in the casket."

_A body in the casket_. The strength went out of Sarah just then and she found her body unable to stand anymore. The reality of the situation was hitting her. She collapsed heavily into the office chair Atem had vacated, slumping over in defeat. _When did I lose control of this situation?_ A line from an old movie answered from her memory: _"You never _had_ control, that's the illusion!"*_ Either way, her career as an archeologist was in jeopardy. All because she had read one little incantation out loud! _All it takes is one little thing, one little domino, _her mind whispered to her. Here's your bed, Chanson, lay in it. She barely felt the comforting pressure of Mandy's hand settling on her shoulder.

Atem, who remained silent during all of this since his initial outburst, looked round from one face to another. He was still so very utterly confused and lost. These strange people who wore faces he knew but didn't know him… How could he be expected to trust any of them? But he had to. There was no choosing to be done. His instincts were telling him this Isis woman had the answers he sought, but would not speak them aloud in the presence of Sarah and Mana – no – _Mandy, _he corrected himself. Clearly Isis did not trust them, implying nor should he. Yet he could see from the dejected look on the pale woman's face that a light had gone out from within. Moments later, as he was being led out of the room by the Ishtars, they chanced to trick gazes again.

She touched her forehead and then her heart before looking away. She, nor he, knew why she did that, but she hoped that one day, if not already, the pharaoh would understand she was wishing him luck. He was certainly going to need it.

* * *

*_Jurassic Park_


	7. Beyond the Western Horizon

"**Beyond the Western Horizon"**

Unanimously it was decided that the best way to assimilate Atem into the modern world (and to lie low until the fervor over the excavation passed) was to introduce him to it _slowly_. In the first step toward doing this, the Ishtars purchased a small house on the outskirts of a rural village just south of Cairo. It was a fairly modern place with only a few basic technological necessities. There was running indoor water and flush toilets, some rickety old cars and trucks, AM/FM radios, and a few pre-paid mobile phones. (Malik probably owned the only lap top computer from miles around). The rustic environment, combined with the desert landscape with its arid timelessness, kept everything from becoming too over whelming for the ancient pharaoh. The world might have changed on the surface from 3000 years ago, however; beneath the veneer burnish of technology basic human society in Egypt had remained very much the same.

Three weeks had passed now since that eventful morning at the museum in Cairo. It was a typically peaceful, lazy, hot afternoon. Isis was sitting on a wooden chair under the awning of their small home, delicately sipping from a glass of sweet cold lemon tea, enjoying its refreshing taste, as she watched a few small children run by, kicking around a worn out old red rubber ball with gusto. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Atem glance up from where he was seated on the porch step, to watch the transitory ruckus. Lying open on his lap was only one of the many piles of magazines and newspapers Malik brought back with him from his motorcycle excursions to help "educate" Atem about the world. "Best to start him small, with still photographs," he'd explained to his sister, "before we work him up to the real things. Kind of like a _Modern World Crash Course for Pharaohs_."

Atem continued to watch the children pass with brief interest before returning his attention to his reading material. He couldn't have looked more or less like a pharaoh than he did right then, she reflected. He continued to bear the golden arm and leg bands and the rings of his former abode (like they could have made him part with his jewelry anyway; he'd nearly _roared_ like the former living god he'd been if they _dared_ to suggest it). However, that is where the resemblance ended. His traditional white pleated kilt had been replaced with a pair of white men's cargo shorts and he was wearing a simple light blue T shirt Malik had swapped from a gift shop with the words MY PARENTS WENT TO EGYPT AND ALL THEY BOUGHT ME WAS THIS DUMB T-SHIRT printed in English across the front. Malik had thought it was _hilarious_, while Isis had merely pursed her lips in consternation. It was probably just as well. When Atem had inquired as to what it said, he had laughed like it was the best joke ever.

Isis was broken out of her daydream when Atem gasped, and then began to chuckle, shaking his head in what seemed to be amusement. Smiling indulgently, Isis asked, "What is it?"

Atem kept chuckling before he lifted the magazine and turned it around to show her what he found so humorous. It took every motor control in Isis's faculty for her not to react. Forcing her eyes from the photograph before her, she focused on Atem's still smiling face. "It appears my choice of hair style is not so uncommon in this modern world." He glanced at the picture again, almost fondly. "At least I know I will not need to visit that man you call a _barber_, yes?" Catching the disquiet on his guardian's face, he raised an eyebrow in concern. "Is there something wrong, my lady? You seem distressed."

Isis gave herself a mental shake and blinked a few times before pasting on a gentle smile, lifting the lip of the glass to her mouth. "I'm fine, my Pharaoh. I was just… I was surprised."

Unsuspecting of her vaguely halting reply, Atem only brightened and smiled back warmly. He laid the floppy, well-thumbed magazine across his knees and returned to his reading. "You do not need to do that," he spoke softly.

"Hmm?"

Atem rested his chin on his knuckles, without looking up again. "I am no longer a king in this new world. I would rather not be reminded." Something on the page he turned to caught his interest and he leaned in closer to get a better look at it, summarily putting an end to their arbitrary discourse. These short instances of conversation happened with him often so it wasn't anything to be worried about. An object or a subject would ensnare his interest, then would come the inevitable burst of twenty odd questions, before at last he'd turn his attention to other things he found more fascinating.

Isis watched the former god king a few moments longer, murmuring, "If that is what you wish." Completely absorbed in his perusal, he didn't look as if to hear her, nor did he give the impression to notice when she rose and reentered the home. Malik was curled up on the living room couch, his pale gaze intent on the display of his lap top. He glanced up, momentarily distracted. "Hey." She crossed over wordlessly and sat beside him on the couch, letting her folded hands fall loosely between her kneecaps. A long moment of silence had to pass before Malik sensed something was up with his sister and cut her an oblique glance. "What's up?"

Isis blurted it out. "Atem just saw a photo of Yuugi Mutou in one of the magazines you gave him."

Malik closed the screen to his computer with an audible click. He moved around on the cushion to face her more comfortably. His silence entreated her to go on.

"He didn't know him."

Malik's shoulders slumped a little. "Then I guess my stealthy maneuver didn't work."

Isis stared steadily at her brother. "You gave him that magazine on purpose."

"Yes." Malik's face fell. "I was hoping to…maybe… You know, to jog his memory? I mean, if it's even there." He nodded outside toward the quietly captivated former pharaoh. "I don't want to tell our friends in Japan that their friend has returned to life if he doesn't remember them. They wouldn't mean anything to him. Yuugi was the ultimate test, I thought. If he was going to remember anyone, it would be him, you know?" Malik shook his head, sadly, before stopping suddenly, looking up. "How did he notice the picture? Was he just leafing through and didn't pay it any mind, or did he stop and point it out to you?"

"He laughed and showed it to me. He was amused that their haircuts were the same."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Malik wilted, before sitting up ramrod straight again, another naked look of hope flickering in his expression. "Maybe it's too soon to tell." He refused to completely admit defeat. He gazed at the seated figure outside once more before opening his computer again. "It's only been a month so far. He could still remember."

Isis leaned one elbow casually into the cushion and tilted her head to the side in interest. "Why is this so important to you?"

"It's not _me_." Malik paused, as if realizing he probably sounded a bit too defensive. "It's just… Well, if _I_ had a friend who had died and came back from the dead, I would want to know about it." He shrugged. "He helped me back to myself and he helped me chase the darkness out of my heart. How on this earth can I ever possibly hope to repay him for that?" He absently picked at one of his earrings, a bit embarrassed by his show of emotion. "I want to help him in any way that I can. I want to be there for him the way he was there for us. I think… We all owe him that."

Genuinely moved by her younger brother's confession, Isis nipped at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I feel the same way. I think we all owe him more than can possibly be repaid. Only…" She idly traced the intricately embroidered pattern woven into the beige sleeve of her dress. "I pray that we are doing the right thing by all of us. That we're not harming by helping." Sigh. "Even with knowledge that the Items are now nothing more than useless artifacts, I still feel uneasy, as if this is just the beginning of something unforeseen." The funny look Malik was giving her made her cover her mouth with her hand. "I know!" she cried, waving her other hand at him, dismissing her worries. "I sound terrible! Atem needs us to be his guides. I will not ruin his second chance by foisting the frightening what-ifs of the future upon him." _I have done enough of that just worrying about our family, _she added on privately.

Malik affectionately knuckled his elder sibling softly in the arm. "Now that's a first, Big Sis!" he enthused. "'Screw my instincts, let's party!' _That's_ the kind of walk-on-the-wild-side thinking we need around here!" He faked tearing up. "Big Sister is growing up so fast…!"

_This child is incorrigible!_ Isis's smile was more effusive this time and she gently slapped Malik on the arm before pushing off the couch to her feet. "You, Brother, are too much. Just be certain you don't corrupt that poor man anymore than you already intend to. I know you, Malik! Don't look at me like that!"

Her brother held up both hands up defensively in the 'I'm not touching anything' gesture. "I promise I won't make him drink more than two beers," he innocently declared.

_Yes, without a doubt, beyond incorrigible_. Isis was livid. "You will _not_ be getting him drunk! _You,_"she stabbed a finger at him, towering over him cringing form, "will not be getting drunk! Nobody is touching a single drop while we reside in this house and that's _final_!"

Malik's mouth opened, insulted. "Sis, it's practically a rite of passage! It's considered not manly to _not_ get drunk a little!"

Isis folded her arms and gave him a stern stare. She would believe _that_ when it started raining cattle! (She was fairly certain this could probably happen, as she'd seen stranger things).

Malik threw back his head, exasperated, before going back to typing on his keyboard. "I miss Jounouchi and Honda," he grumbled, his lithe fingers creating a dry, _tappity-tap!_ staccato rhythm. "_Those_ guys know how to party."

Taking his sudden distraction as a temporary sign of defeat, Isis left him. She refreshed herself in the bathroom, before going back outside with a glass of cold water. She paused, standing behind his back, before pressing the sweating glass against his bare neck. Atem yelped and jumped to his feet. He spun on her, ready to do battle, and then reacted badly when he saw who had surprised him, his face twisting between anger and amusement. Isis calmly held the glass out for him to take, which he did.

"I think there is a touch of Set in you," Atem remarked before bringing the glass to his lips. She understood he was referencing the slayer of Osiris, and merely offered him a slight bow of the head in response. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the gesture. "I daresay you are by far the most enigmatic woman I have ever met."

"Oh?" Isis carefully kept her face blank. "How do you come by that observation?"

"You hide a spirit of mischief beneath a thin veil of serenity." He drank his water. "I think if one were to anger you, you become more like Sekhmet than like the goddess you take your name from."

"Is that a compliment?"

"If you choose to take it as so."

Isis was smiling. _Seems I'm not the only one blessed with the gift of ambiguity. _"Do you compare all of the women you meet to goddesses?"

Atem grinned back slyly. There was a playful light in his eyes. "Are you all not?"

Isis felt her face heat up and was glad for the shade she was standing in. Now this was an aspect to his personality she had not been privy to in all of the weeks he had been with them. As usual, she handled it with the grace in which she handled everything: smiling politely and holding her head high and proud. She folded her hands in front of her, and waited. She was satisfied when this silently retaliatory gesture garnered the desired effect: a spreading patch of red across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. It was many minutes before he felt comfortable enough to resume speaking.

"Yes, you've discovered my weakness." Atem finished his water and handed the glass to the woman. "Before I became pharaoh, I was quite a handful for my father and the court. For a while, I think my priests wanted to kill me because I…" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I…I probably shouldn't share this with you." Again, Isis merely waited, and after a moment, he resumed speaking, reluctantly. "I used to forgive minor injustices if I was offered someone's beautiful daughter." Unheard of: the King of Games was actually _stammering_! "If I liked her, I would let the family off, if I did not, then I punished them according to the laws of Ma'at." Her circumspectly neutral expression caused him even more discomfit and he began to mumble, which was another extraordinary sight. "I was fifteen summers old!" he suddenly protested. "They were all I thought about!" He covered his face with one hand. "I suppose you must think less of me now?"

Isis shrugged her shoulders, hiding a fond smile behind her straight-face. "No. I do not. But I must ask… Were they treated well, these women that struck your fancy?"

"Of course!" Crimson was now a full-faced tenant. "I didn't _always_ keep them. If they didn't want to stay, I allowed them to return home." Atem began stacking his magazines, to give his hands something to do so he wouldn't have to suffer to look Isis in the eye. "Sometimes I had a hard time making them _leave_, actually."

Isis bit the inside of her cheek. "Oh you poor thing."

Atem snapped up straight, mouth parting open a little, stunned. Then, gradually, he smiled. He plopped down upon the step with hearty slaps to his kneecaps. Isis sat beside Atem. This was a rare opportunity to discover more about Atem's background, which of course still remained something of a mystery prior to the Zorc incident that bookended his epigrammatic reign. Most of who Atem was remained locked up behind that formerly regal and remote persona. This heretofore unknown fondness for women was a gem for her to have discovered. Never would she have guessed this about him, not for all of the inundations of the Nile.

"Did you have children?" she asked quietly.

Immediately she regretted her question. The merriness instantly faded from his eyes and Atem's jaw clicked shut. He shifted his gaze back to the kids that had been playing with the ball. They were now caught up in some sort of game that involved a lot of running and shouting with the occasional bodily dive-tackles into the dust.

Meanwhile, Isis stared down at her hands, feeling guilty. Out of the hundreds of thousands of different subjects, she had to pick _that_ one! Malik sometimes accused of being tactless every now and then, and while she usually disagreed with him, she admitted that perhaps right now such an accusation was warranted. What had she been thinking?

To her surprise, he answered, after recovering from whatever dark shroud of memory had cast itself over his mind. "Yes." His face and his body were still. "I had a son once. He did not live long enough to be properly named but his mother and I liked to call him Mery." His voice seemed to come from faraway and from another time. "He was quite the sight when he was birthed. He was born with full head of hair. He had his mother's temper and, some liked to say, my sharp mind. I was awakened many a night to the sound of his jackal's wailing." Atem hummed in enjoyment of the reminiscence, shaking his head, before he abruptly cut himself off. "But even for that he only lived a single inundation. The coughing sickness took him." Isis made a small sound of sympathy, in spite of her attempts to quell it. He didn't seem to notice. "I was away at the time, preparing for the day I would become pharaoh, so I was not informed of the child's passing until after it happened. Even then I… was more concerned about the mother. She was inconsolable despite my efforts to alleviate her heartache; she believed she had failed me unforgivably. Unable to live with her grief, she gave herself to Sobek. She was sixteen summers, only one older than I." Isis covered her mouth with her hand to prevent a gasp of horror from escaping. "Hmm, that is very strange…" he murmured, trailing off, unaware of her reactions.

"What is?" Isis was afraid to raise her voice, afraid of shattering the spell of remembrance that had ensnared him. _Had I known what these memories were, I would have not asked for them. He lost his son and the mother of his son within days of one another. How can he bear it? _Time, was her immediate answer. Time, and more time, because that was the only medicine for sorrow… and for loss.

Atem closed his eyes briefly, as if by doing so would enable for him see the face of the young girl in his mind. "I don't remember her name. I remember that she was a noble man's daughter and that I had been very fond of her, but…" He trailed off, frowning hard, before in his frustration, he shook his head. "No. Not even when I try to remember." He opened his eyes, appearing very downcast, and defeated. "I would have liked to have remembered her name. She had been very beautiful and very kind. I…I wish I had not forgotten it." All of a sudden Atem seemed to come out of his reverie much in the way a man does when waking from a dream. He smiled apologetically. "I am very sorry, Isis. I'm afraid I've been rather boring this afternoon. I am sure there are more interesting things you would rather talk about."

To have said she was taken aback would have been an understatement. "You haven't been boring at all, my Pharaoh."

"Atem. Please call me Atem."

"Atem."

"Thank you." Then his grin became roguish and true again, in spite of the memories he had just relived. "But I suppose I couldn't trouble you for a piece of fruit?"

"Of course." Rising gracefully from her seat, she picked up the empty glass. She took a moment to brush off the back of her dress where a few sand grains stuck to it. "Is there anything else you need before I go back inside?"

"Not at the present moment. Unless," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "there is some way for you to leave and remain at the same time?"

_Well now_. Isis looked back over her shoulder, and responded smoothly. "Not even if you were still the king of Egypt, Atem."

She hid a smile as she reentered the home. Behind her, she was sure her ears were just deceiving her, but before she closed the door again, she thought she heard the soft rumble of his laughter.

* * *

Atem waited until the screen door had closed behind the woman before folding his arms over his lap and burying his face in his knees. The fruit had only been a ruse so she wouldn't see what he had been desperately trying to hide from her. He did not blame her for it nor did he feel as if it was not something he should have spoken about. Despite the pain they brought, Atem cherished the memories of his son and the woman who had borne him. He didn't mind speaking of them. No, there was still something missing in this new life of his, something that belonged here, and to _him_, but for some reason what this was continued to elude him. Part of him lingered in his long dead past, and yet somehow, a large part of him also lingered _here_, in this new world. The Ishtars knew about it, they knew _something_. They had _expected_ for him to recognize them – and he did! But they expected for him to be acquainted with them for the people they were _now_ instead of the people he had known in his own life. How could that be? He wanted to ask, had come so close to asking several times, but somehow the words always stuck inside his mouth. The answer for why he could not ask was simple: He was afraid to know. No. That was a lie. It wasn't fear that made him hold his tongue.

He didn't _want_ to know.

Atem wept then. Not for the memories he had relived, but for what he did not – _could not_ – remember – and for the desire he did not have for the answers to the questions he could not bring himself to ask.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
Sekhmet - _Egyptian goddess of war and the bringer of destruction, she is usually depicted as a woman with the head of a lioness._  
Sobek - _A crocodile deity, depicted usually as a mummified crocodile wearing the horns of Amon-Ra. When Atem says that the woman 'gave herself to Sobek' he means she sacrificed her life to a crocodile as self-punishment._  
Set _- The rival, brother and murderer of Osiris and the enemy of Osiris's son Horus, he had red eyes and red hair, both colors considered evil by Egyptians. Generally regarded as the 'bad boy' god of Egyptian mythology._  
Source:_ Egyptian Mythology _by Veronica Ions


	8. Heaven is a Place on Earth

"**Heaven is a Place on Earth"**

"That is _it_!" Malik threw his hands up, opened the passenger side door, and slammed it shut. "I can't do this anymore, world, I _quit_!" He shouted at the sky before he began stalking toward the house, where Rishid was just stepping out of the back door to see what the commotion was about. "I absolutely refuse to teach him!"

Rishid seemed aware Malik was prone to over exaggeration, and so responded calmly. "What is the matter?"

Malik stabbed a finger accusingly at the figure simmering with barely concealed rage standing behind him. "_Him_! That man is going to kill someone someday and I'd rather it not be me!"

Atem marched right up to Malik and got up in his face. "Perhaps your death would not loom so large if you would not scream in my ear like a cat that has had its tail stepped upon!" His eyes flashed dangerously. "Do you have _any_ idea of what you sound like inside of an enclosed space when you scream?"

Malik wasn't having any of it. He waved a finger in the former monarch's face. "Do _you_ have any idea of what it's like sitting beside you when you hit the gas? I see my life flash before my eyes! I start seeing stuff in my head that I didn't even know had happened to me!"

Atem couldn't believe the other man's nerve. "Oh yes. I am a stranger to death. What would _I_ know about dying?"

It was on this point, Rishid went back inside the house, having evidently decided a physical altercation between the two younger men wasn't imminent.

The anger left Malik then, and he deflated, lowering his arm; he seemed to slouch in on himself. "Yeah," he murmured, running his hand behind his neck, over his shoulder, looking down and away. "I'm sorry, man. My bad. My bad, _big_ time."

Atem folded his arms imperiously over his chest, unmoved. "I am afraid that isn't good enough." Malik snapped up, his face the very picture of shock. He decided to reiterate. "You promised me you would teach me to operate this… chariot… and that is what I fully expect you to do." While he spoke, he gestured superciliously at the vehicle behind them; an ancient silver colored dented Ford Fiesta that probably had been the first model Ford had ever manufactured. Not that Atem knew or cared about such things. He only knew that he was expected to drive this machine, with its insane lack of horses, and he was determined to master its operation. Having instructors who cringed, cried, prayed aloud to the gods, and screamed at him when he made mistakes was not something he was willing to tolerate. He had not when he'd been a prince, he had not when he'd been a pharaoh, and he certainly wasn't going to start doing it now.

"It's a car, Atem. C-A-R. Car."

The glare he bestowed upon Malik then could have killed an entire army. "I can _spell_, Malik."

"Yeah, well, too bad you can't _drive_."

Atem narrowed his eyes. "Too bad you cannot _teach_."

Malik curdled and stepped close enough to have stepped on the other man's feet if he wanted to. "Too bad you can't _learn_."

Atem smirked and drew back in amusement. "We could do this all day."

Malik smirked right back, and bit back a chuckle. "You going anywhere?"

"No." Atem rested a hand on one hip. "Are you?"

Moving back, Malik held up the keys he had removed from the ignition and shook them in front of the god king's face. "You can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?"

_These modern idioms and slang words, why can these people not speak plainly?_ Atem chose to say nothing, lest he reveal his ignorance, and snatched the keys out of his friend's hand. "One more scream out of you and I will _deliberately_ crash this car." Atem began heading back toward the Ford.

"Would I be able to tell the difference from an accident?" Malik called after him, following, hiding his grin when Atem simply shot him a silent scowl.

"Have you always been this impertinent?" Atem asked him as both men slid into their seats and fastened their seat belts.

Making a sound of pleasure, Malik stretched his arms behind his head and crossed them. "Since birth," he chirped.

Atem fought a smile and reached for the ignition, checking around the steering wheel to make sure he inserted it correctly. "Your siblings have my profound sympathy. How far must I turn the key?"

Immediately Malik slid back into his role as driving teacher. "You turn it until the engine starts. When it does, stop turning it, and let it go where it is. If you keep pushing it, you might bust something. There! You got it! Now let go!" Malik patted him on the shoulder. "Good job!"

Atem shrugged his hand off irritably. "Spare me your empty praise and teach me already so we can get this over with!"

Malik rolled his eyes at the high-handed delivery, mouthed a silent prayer to all that controlled the heavens above, and proceeded to instruct the former pharaoh of Egypt on the rules of the road and how to properly operate the gearshift. In the end, Atem thought he did very well, despite the amount of blood that seemed to drain from Malik's face with each jerk, heave, and bump. At least no one was hurt, except for perhaps when Malik banged his head on the dashboard because he hadn't reacted fast enough when Atem abruptly stepped on the brake. An angry red welt appeared in the middle of his forehead, but other than Malik's increased surliness, he was all right. Atem's sincere apology curbed any epithets that might have assaulted his ears. Despite his annoyance with him, Atem was not out to harm Malik, whom he found he liked very much. Truthfully being with him was kind of like being with the brother he had always wished he'd had. The warm smiles the other man kept giving him and the affectionate shoulder pokes led him to believe Malik felt the same way. The way Malik was willing to share his time, his belongings, and his space touched Atem deeply. He knew not why Malik seemed so eager to please him and did not ask. He was simply too grateful that there was someone so ready and willing to help him adjust to his strange environment.

While Malik helped him master the mechanizations of the world, Isis helped Atem in a different way. She taught him how to eat with utensils, exercise proper modern table manners, and how to use the devices in the kitchen to make his meals. She patiently aided him in the use of Malik's _lap top,_ and in the navigating of the _Internet_, which seemed to be a very important thing to master. He found it absolutely astonishing that this book sized device could enable him to communicate with other human beings on a global scale, and he was even more astounded by the _mobile phone_. How could something the size of a small stone and made out of this _plastic_ material throw a person's voice over any length of distance, even over _oceans_? He didn't understand why some things like the _television_ were so very important, even though he admitted he did enjoy many of the stories and information he heard and witnessed, especially since one could not interact with any of the events onscreen. But he admitted he did _rather_ like the _video_ games. Once he had mastered the console and the sticks and buttons on its controllers, he kicked Malik's butt at every game they played. "Figures," Malik had muttered after losing to Atem in a two player racing game. "I don't know why I thought I had the advantage here."

However, as much as some of these new technologies frustrated and vexed him, he found them challenging. Some of them even proved to be absolutely wonderful. The shower was a heavenly invention he was quite certain a god had come down and revealed to humanity personally. Hot and cold water at one's will and _clean_ water at that? Different pleasantly scented bodily products that did not have to be made by hand first? A device called a _toilet_ that made waste removal easy, quick and clean? Soft bouncy beds free of those tiny insects that bit you while you slept? Sometimes he was convinced he must still be dead because wasn't this the kind of afterlife the Field of Reeds would have provided?

He also found he enjoyed listening to music (as he always had, he remembered he used to have musicians on hand in court whenever the mood moved him). Its many styles amazed him and he was very pleased to discover that it could be carried around in a small device called an _mp3 player_. That he could listen to his music without disturbing anyone while reading a book, playing a solitary game, or perusing a scroll or newspaper was remarkable to him.

But the best was yet to come. There was this card game Malik had showed him called _Duel Monsters_. He was beyond pleased that it was something from his past that still existed today – and he played it as well in this form of playing cards as well as he remembered the way it was originally played. He became quite attuned to his deck, which Malik helped him build by opening a suitcase full of cards he'd collected over the years, and told him to "go crazy" with an odd little mysterious smile. Atem often wondered about that smile. It was a part of that whole thing that Malik was hiding that he and the rest of his family would not tell Atem about. He still did not want to know. Not now. Maybe not ever.

It was one such day they were playing the game on the front porch with nothing but sandy floorboards between them when Malik suddenly grabbed two tufts of his hair, threw his head back on his neck, and groaned loudly. "Graaaagh! I hate you!"

Totally impassive, Atem looked up from the five cards he held in his hand, raising an eyebrow in askance.

Malik slapped his hand over his deck and lowered his head in defeat, shaking it slowly.

A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Surrendering already? But neither of us has lost all of his life points yet."

"I _know _that!" Malik looked up at him, appearing oddly cheerful for a guy who had only 200 life points left. "Don't you get tired of being the best?"

"No."

"Why?"

Atem ran his tongue along his bottom teeth and shrugged. "Where's the fun in it? Besides," he laid a trap card down and nodded to indicate the end of his turn, "I am certain there are other players in the world who are much better at this game than I."

Malik leaned his elbows on the knees of his crossed legs, appearing interested. "Like who?" He plucked a card from his hand and laid it into play. "I don't ever remember encountering them in any of the tournaments I've been in."

Atem blinked, a bit caught off guard, and pleasantly surprised. "You have never told me about that. You have played in tournaments before? What are they like?"

Malik's face changed subtly, like he was a bit disappointed in something all of a sudden. "Yeah, yeah," sigh, "I've been in them. They're pretty intense but cool if you like the pressure and the huge crowds… and if you don't mind knowing that you might get your ass kicked on public television." He stared down at their playing field and cursed again. "Oh come _on_ Atem, show a little mercy for your victims!"

"Now why would I do that?" Atem turned his trap card over and smirked again. "You've lost."

And he had. Malik's life points hit zero and the game was over. Reaching out, Malik gathered up his cards and shuffled them together. "Play again?" he implored hopefully.

Nothing doing. Atem shook his head, stuck out his hand and waited the stoic resolution on his face granite solid. Realizing he'd well and truly lost, Malik exhaled in a hurricane, reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, peeled out a dollar and slapped it into his friend's hand. "You're going to put me in the poorhouse, you bastard," he grumbled.

Atem stuffed his prize into his own pocket. "Then stop losing," he replied nonchalantly.

"Very funny." Malik made a face. "Seriously, let's bet something else."

Completely stunned, Atem stared at him. "Are you a masochist?"

"Whoa, that's a big word for you, where'd you learn that one?"

"From your sister." He grinned evilly. "In reference to you."

"Crap."

Atem continued to grin.

"Oh shut up." Malik stuck his cards into his other back pocket and started to get up. "Sis is going to have dinner ready soon. You better go inside and make sure she makes it the way you want."

"Okay." Atem got up too and headed inside just to do that. He found Isis in the kitchen stirring something in a large pot on the stove. Her long black hair was pinned on top of her head, a few strands escaping here and there, and she was wearing a sleeveless light tan dress and a white body apron. She looked oddly domestic in a way he wasn't used to, even now. He had to stand there at the threshold and take in the sight to make sure he was really seeing it. He sampled the air, and liked what he smelled, because it usually meant he was in for a great dinner. Whoever had taught this woman how to cook must have been a good teacher. Deciding he would trust his friend this time, he slipped into one of the chairs at the small table, and proceeded to watch her work over folded hands.

It was too bad Isis was not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone, he mused with a bit of disappointment. He personally thought she was depriving a good man of her gifts, but who was he to judge? Modern women didn't seem to need men as much as they did in his time. Isis wielded the power of a queen over her small family, including him, which he did not object to, since he had wearied of always having to be in charge every second of the day. The desire would return, in due course, as he had not lost his taste for dominance, and would be sore to have to give it up for good. For now, he was content to sit passively back, observe, and take direction, until he was absolutely certain of how to live in this world.

While Isis moved around quietly in the kitchen, checking on her ingredients and measurements, Atem reached into his pocket and pulled out the small shiny object he always kept with him. After studying it for several moments, he bit his lip, and looked back up at Isis. Closing his eyes for a moment, he put the object back into his pocket. He may as well ask her while he was thinking about it. He had kept forgetting to do it far too many times over the past several weeks. It was not right to keep delaying, as this was akin to being a thief the longer he kept procrastinating.

"Isis? May I ask you a question?"

Isis licked her finger, wiped it off on a towel, and finally turned to face Atem, after putting down the large wooden spoon she had been using. "Yes."

He lightly tapped his fingers on the table top a few times. A pause. "Would it be possible to ask Dr. Sarah Chanson to come by for a visit?"

Isis appeared taken aback and she blinked several times. "Whatever for?" she blurted out.

Feeling very put on the spot, Atem became impatient to cover up his embarrassment. "Can you ask her to do it or not?"

Finally, taking him seriously, Isis sat down in the chair across from his. "It's not a question of whether I can," she explained, "it's a question of why and whether or not she is still in the country."

He frowned. "Why would she leave Egypt? Is she in danger of exile?"

Isis's lips pressed against one another, a sure sign she was suppressing laughter. "Atem, you know by now people can move from country to country for any reason. What I would like to know is what brought this on."

_I had not anticipated having to explain this much_. Atem felt heat creep into his cheeks. He supposed that is what he got for demanding that he stopped being treated like the Living Horus. He actually had to give _reasons_ for why he wanted something done. "Her assistant left something of hers with me. Since I am sure it was not her intention to allow me to keep it, I would like to return it to her." He paused, and glanced up at her again. "So can you ask her?"

Isis smiled, seeming relieved. "She doesn't need to come all the way out here if all you want to do is give her something. You can send it through the parcel service and they will deliver it to her wherever she lives."

"But…" Atem trailed off, and sat back against his chair, disappointed. "I wish to see her again. She seemed very upset the last time I saw her and I… I would like to let her know that I harbor no ill will towards her." He couldn't bring himself to look Isis in the eye, because he feared the extent of his blush would likely set his face on fire, if it wasn't already well on its way to doing so.

Isis rested her chin on her knuckles, watching him with curiosity. Gradually she reached over to the counter behind her, plucked up her mobile phone, and set it down in front of the former pharaoh. "If that is how you feel," she pushed it closer to him, encouragingly, "then I think that is a phone call you ought to make yourself."

Atem gingerly picked up the device and seemed to weigh it in his hand almost reverently. Isis had never permitted him to actually _use_ any of their phones, and was almost rendered speechless at her easy consent. "It is all right with you?" He made one final imploration. "She will be welcome here?"

"Yes."

Eagerly, Atem opened the phone and stared at the tiny screen, with its lotus flower wallpaper, for a moment, before looking up at her again. She nodded, reached over, and briefly showed him how to use the phone, and how to hold it against his ear. "Remember to speak in a normal tone of voice. You don't need to shout, she will hear you just fine."

"All right. Thank you." A faint ringing sound filled his ear. "How will I know when the call has…"

"Hello?" a woman's voice spoke suddenly into his ear. "Ms. Ishtar?"

Atem lit up, excited in a way he hadn't felt since he was a young child and saw Mahaad perform magic before his eyes for the first time. "I can hear her!"

Isis couldn't help laughing a little and gestured. "And she can hear you. Speak to her, Atem, not to me." To avoid further distraction, Isis rose from the table, and returned to the boiling pot on the stove.

"Hello? Who is this?" The woman on the other end of the line sounded concerned.

Atem's heart started to pound. "It's me, uh, it's Atem. The pharaoh."

Dead silence.

"Hello?" Atem was starting to quietly freak out. "Dr. Chanson? Are you still there?"

Another long moment of silence. Then… "Yes. Yes, this is she. I… Atem? Really?"

"Yes." He relaxed. "Isis is letting me use her mobile phone." Atem couldn't help feeling giddy. "This is amazing! I can hear you like you're right here in the room with me!"

Sarah laughed. "Telephones are amazing aren't they? They've only been around since the last century, and we've been able to do so much with them. I can't believe they let you call me. I mean, after what happened…"

Atem darkened. "You could not have known what would happen when you read that spell. I am not angry at you and I think that should be the only thing that matters."

Pause. "You're not angry?" Her voice sounded small, soft.

"No. If I was, I assure you, you would have felt my wrath."

More laughter. "I think only you could get away with saying something like that and it not sound cheesy." Sarah seemed more relaxed too. The tension had gone out of her voice. "So how are you? Are you adjusting to everything okay?"

"I am well. The Ishtars have been very good to me and they are bringing me up to date with the modern world." He sighed. "There is so much still to learn. I often wonder if I will ever catch up with it all."

"I hear you. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever catch up with everything myself."

Dismayed, Atem's jaw dropped. "So it is not possible to learn everything?"

Sarah snickered. "Not really. There's just _so_ much information out there. But don't worry about it. You'll learn what you need to know, when you need to know it. It's how any of us learn, really. You're not that much different from everyone else in that aspect."

"…Oh." Atem thought a few moments upon this, before he spoke again. "Are you all right? Where are you right now?"

"I'm all right. I've been better," here she seemed to drip with light derision, but he couldn't be certain, as he couldn't see her, "but it's nothing a few cups of coffee and some alone time won't cure. I get tugged in a million different directions every day, somebody always wanting something from me. It's exhausting."

Atem smiled and leaned over the table comfortably, settling into the conversation. He knew how that was in more ways than one.

She was still talking. "I'm at a friend's apartment right now. Have you ever heard of New York City?"

Atem searched through his head and eventually nodded, realized she couldn't see that, and responded. "Yes. It is a city in that country called America. Is that where you live?"

"No. I'm just visiting here, promoting my work and everything. I have a little place out in Ohio – that's another state in America – that is my real home. It's really beautiful out there." Suddenly her voice became distant when another woman's voice spoke up in the background. "What? I'm talking to a friend. Out of country, very expensive, you know how that is." He frowned, a bit puzzled, until the sound of her voice became strong again. "Atem?" she spoke more quietly. "What do you want?"

Atem felt his stomach turn over like a pancake – and he knew because he'd eaten them. "I have something your assistant Mandy left behind. I did not mean to keep it, and I wish to return it to her."

"Her cross?" Sarah sounded thrilled. "Oh my god, _you_ have it? Good lord, she's been going crazy looking for that thing! We completely forgot that you had it – and you _do_!" She was laughing again, and Atem was smiling again. "She's going to be so happy. I would love to come back to Egypt personally to get it, but I just can't. Can you send it to me?"

"I can. Isis will help me with that." Atem hid how crestfallen he felt. He didn't know why not being able to see her again disappointed him so much. His heart said she was a true friend, though he didn't know why he knew this. "Where should it be sent?"

"Since I'll be stuck here for another three months, send it to my friend's apartment. I'll give you her address. Got a pen and paper ready?"

Atem looked around the kitchen, spied a pen and small pad of paper on the windowsill, and grabbed those. "I am ready." He wrote down what she recited to him, knowing Malik would translate it into English so it got to the States safely. He could speak some of that language, as Isis had been teaching it to him, but writing and reading it was still a chore. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes. Here's the phone to Anzu's – that's my friend – apartment, if you can't get me at this number. She has an answering machine so just leave a message if no one picks up."

"All right." Atem decided he would ask Isis about that sort of thing later. "Thank you. I will do my best to ensure Mandy's cross reaches you in safety. Does she live nearby?"

"Yes. Er, well, she lives at the university she's attending here. But that's not a problem for me."

"Good." Atem bit back a sigh. "Will you be returning to Egypt in the future?" he inquired hopefully.

"I will try. I won't promise anything. I'm sorry."

"Do not be. Sometimes… sometimes it is not the right time." Atem brightened and moved his arms when Isis put a plate in front of him and began to ladle food onto it. "People who are meant to meet again will meet again when the time is right. That is what I believe."

"It's a good way to think." Another commotion in the background intruded, and Sarah spoke again, presumably to the same person from before. "He's not my boyfriend. Go away." To him, she said, regretfully, "I have to go. Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I know you will but just humor an old lady."

He smirked. "You are far from old, but yes, I promise you that I will take care of myself. May the gods watch over you, my friend."

"May they do the same for you. Good bye Atem."

"Good bye Sarah."

* * *

"Who was that?"

Sarah closed her phone, picked her book up again, and sat back in the armchair she was curled up in. "Just this guy I met in Egypt. He found Mandy's cross."

"Oh that's great." Her friend lifted her leg and did a stretch, something she always did before she left for her dancing class. "So where'd you meet this guy?"

Sarah dove back into her book. "At the dig." She didn't notice the strange way the younger woman was staring at her. This was kind of a touchy subject between them. Anzu was firmly opposed to her having headed the dig or been involved in it at all. Said it was sacrilege and being disrespectful to the dead, all of the usual things she heard from people when they found out about what she did for a living. Still for all of that, she liked Anzu Mazaki. It galled her a bit that she had had to resort to shacking up with one of Mandy's friends from college, but she had been in desperate financial straits – and in enough hot water as it was with performing the evasive maneuvers concerning the findings of the dig itself. She couldn't pay rent for three months _and_ do her job here. It just wasn't possible.

"Oh cool." Yeah, she sounded _really_ enthusiastic there. "What's his name?"

Sarah wasn't really paying attention anymore, absorbed in her book. She turned a page. "Atem."

"Adam? Is that what you said?"

"No. I said Atem." Sarah still didn't look up, feigning nonchalance so hard she couldn't believe she wasn't screaming 'Yes! I was talking to a dead pharaoh, you know, the one I brought back from the dead, yeah _him_!' from the roof tops. No. That was not something Anzu would believe – or should ever have to know about. She glanced up briefly, casually. "You know, kind of like Atum, except with an 'e.'" Back to the book again.

Anzu continued to stare at her steadily, her face unreadable, before at last she grabbed up her gym bag and headed for the front door. "I'll be back after six. Lock up for me?"

"Will do."

* * *

Outside of the apartment, Anzu stopped after she closed the door, and just kind of stood there, not moving. Then suddenly she smiled, rolled her eyes, waved at something in the air, and jogged down the hall way to the elevator.


	9. Every Man Has a Twin Somewhere

"**Every Man Has a Twin Somewhere"**

Atem walked up to the ship's railing and grabbed hold of the metal bar with both hands. He gazed across the wide watery expanse, the sheer size of it filling him with elation and joy. Inhaling the breeze, which always seemed to smell of something wild and exotic, he allowed himself to hop up and press his hips against the bar, pushing up with his hands so that his feet cleared the deck. Throwing back his head, he luxuriated in the scent of the wind, before opening his eyes again. He felt so light and giddy! And this ship was amazing, so fast, so light and sure among the waves, and it was able to pick up speed without the aid of sails!

_If I could just look down far enough, maybe…_ Atem tipped further over the rail, craning his head, squinting, as he tried to get a line at the propellers that pushed the ship along the river. _How does it do that, really, I mean without someone to guide…_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no!" A hand seized the back of his windbreaker and yanked the former pharaoh back onto the deck. Atem gasped and flailed briefly before he collided with the person behind him, knocking the both of them over flat. A few passengers standing or taking pictures of one another who witnessed this laughed.

Still sitting on top of the one who'd pulled him back, Atem turned around, and then had to look down. "Malik," he said regally without a hint of surprise or anger, "I think that was _highly_ unnecessary."

Malik grunted, made an _oomph!_ noise, reached out, and grasped a handful of Atem's clothes. "Get off me," he growled.

Atem complied, stood gracefully, and held out his hand to help his friend to his feet. Malik accepted the help before gesturing at where Atem had been perched precariously only seconds before. "Mind telling me what the heck you were doing there, Rose? One minute you're acting normal, and the next, you're leaning over the side like you were blowing your chips." Pause, distrustful glance, and then hesitantly: "_Were_ you?"

Atem was astonished Malik would even entertain the thought. "I most certainly was not! I only wanted to see how the propellers worked. This ship is very fascinating."

Malik rolled his eyes, slung an arm around his wayward charge's shoulders and neck, and then proceeded to lead them away from the rear of the ship back toward the middle and upper decks. "You idiot, if you wanted to know _that_ badly, you could have questioned a member of the crew. They love talking about their boats." Abruptly he pulled down the other man's head and gave him a sound noogie. "You really _are_ a knucklehead sometimes."

Fighting an indignant yell, Atem twisted out of the other man's grip and shot him a look full of mortification. He still was not used to being treated in the same roughshod manner as a commoner or being touched without his expressed permission. He found he disliked it when other people touched him, actually. "That will be _quite_ enough of that. Mind you that you keep your _horseplay_ to a minimum as I do not recall the upper deck as being one of the safest places for it."

Malik listened to him speak with an expression of incredulity, before he shook his head. "You're never going to get tired of talking like that, are you?" he asked wryly, the barest corner of his mouth hinting up.

The pharaoh blinked a few times, baffled by his friend's question. "I beg your pardon? Talking like what?"

"Like you're a pharaoh from 3000 B.C. and everyone else is just there to kiss the dust around your feet."

_Oh by the gods spare me this_. "Malik, in case you have forgotten, I _am_ a pharaoh from 3000 B.C." Atem lifted his chin and folded his arms haughtily over his chest. "I cannot change what I was simply because what I was no longer fits into _your_ modern frame of reference. I speak the way I do because I was _taught_ to speak this way."

His guardian nodded, grudgingly, accepting this. "All right, but the English I'm teaching you is plain old fashioned American English. You're learning every bit of slang, wordplay and idiom down to the last metaphor and simile. You're going to talk normal in _a_ language even if it kills me."

Atem smirked and held up a single digit philosophically. "Ah, but that does rather depend on what one's perception of 'normal' is, is it not?"

Exhaling, Malik rubbed the space between his eyes. "Dude, man, stop. A Q-Tip stabbing into my eardrum is preferable to this torment."

"Very well." _I shall find some way to annoy you later, which will not be a difficult task_. "May I ask you a question?"

After he dragged it over to some shade, Malik plopped down on one of the deck chairs and crossed his ankles as he sat back comfortably. "Fire away." Atem just stared at him. He sighed, long-suffering. "Ask the question."

"Why did you call me 'Rose' before?"

The other man sputtered and stared, "Huh?" before bursting into laughter. "Oh man, I forgot, I haven't made you watch that one yet! Okay, story time." He sat up and leaned forward, while Atem simply sat on the ground by the chair to listen. "Rose is a character in the movie _Titanic_. There's this one scene when she tries to kill herself by trying to throw herself overboard into the ocean. You know, right into the propellers. Then her future love interest, Jack, comes along and talks her out of it."

Atem's eyes widened. "Jack! Ah yes! This is a pirate film?" He dearly loved those movies.

Malik waved his hand at the air. "Not Jack Sparrow. This is a different Jack. Jack Dawson."

"Oh." The subject was dropped. "Why was she trying to kill herself?"

"Her mother was going to make her marry this rich high society guy and she didn't want to and since there was no way out of it, well, she decided death was a better choice."

Atem frowned. "Why ever for? Was this man richer than she was?"

"Oh yes."

"Then I do not understand. Unless…" Atem smiled, almost indulgently, when he realized what the obvious reason was. "Ah, she wanted to marry for love."

Malik shrugged. "Yeah. Most people do. Some cultures still arrange marriages today but most of the time it's considered best that two people marry each other for love."

He nodded, understanding. "So that I have come to see."

His friend stared at him raptly. "You don't agree with that I take it?"

"Don't agree with what?"

"Marrying for love."

"No. When you are who I am, one must be choosy about the alliances he makes." Atem shook his head. "Unless the woman was of royal blood, I could not put her in the standing of Chief Wife. A concubine was the best a peasant woman could hope for in my household if she had no other skills. At least, for _me_, as I understood it." Then he grinned. "Of course, if I, what is the phrase, _knocked_ _her up_, then the child could be considered my legitimate successor, and only if it was a son."

"Isis told me you had a son once." Malik paused, uncertain of the delicacy of the topic. "Hey, let me ask you something." He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering. "So how many women _did_ you have in your harem?"

Atem tilted his head to the side in thought, touching his chin. Hemming and hawing, eventually he began to count on his fingers, shook his head, eliminated and added on fingers as he worked his way through his thoughts before finally he dropped his hands into his lap. "So many came and went," he confessed, defeated, "I cannot remember." He gazed off into the distance, and then something popped into his head. "I remember there was a young man. His name was Heba. I had to keep him out of sight, of course, because I didn't want my priests to know about… Why do you stare at me?" Malik's jaw had dropped anchor. "Such things were considered normal in my time." Atem shrugged, dismissing what he took to be discomfort. He had no patience for intolerance of the culture he had come from. You would have thought that things would have progressed over three millennia. "I had eccentric tastes so it made sense that I could not publically display _all_ them."

Malik seemed to have recovered his tongue. "You're bi then?"

"Bi?"

"Bi-sexual. You like men and women." He could see that Malik was having a hard time digesting this it was written all over the other man's face. But what he was taking for an attempt to accept was actually just his friend trying to wrap his mind around Atem being a human being and having urges like that of any kind. The godly image of a regal, stoic, seemingly androgynous, individual was rapidly fading before his eyes. Atem could see it, and he was a bit puzzled, because he couldn't understand _why_ Malik thought this way about him in the first place. But he had a question to continue answering. He could think about it later.

"Not so much men."

"You just said…"

Atem smiled, and used the edge of a reclining deck chair to push to his feet. "Yes. I know what I said. Heba was very special to me. He was…" He tilted his head to the side, mentally fishing for the word. "It wasn't that he was a man," he finished somewhat lamely. "I cannot describe it." Leaving the thought there, he eagerly surveyed the deck, and smiled when he saw something he liked. He pointed to make sure Malik knew where he was going before heading toward it.

This journey down the Nile River on a sight-seeing vessel had been such a good idea! Atem thought, smiling again as he resumed his viewing of the sights, gasping silently at the distant familiar sights of temples and pyramids. These ancient places of worship of course had been weathered and broken down over the centuries to mere shadows of what he remembered of them but they were _still_ here, only they were now protected tourist attractions for all who wished to see the former ancient glory of Egypt. It warmed his heart despite their ascent into modernity, today's Egyptians kept a firm hold of remembering who they were and where they came from. Really, when he thought about it, he wasn't such the outsider. Not after seeing the wonder of the Giza pyramids, the Sphinx, Karnak at Luxor, and what was left of the ancient city of Thebes. He thanked the pharaohs that had come after him for working so hard to preserve their names. Perhaps their ambition for immortality had not quite paid off as intended, they _had_ done the world Atem had come from justice in making sure they were not forgotten.

Because to be forgotten was to be truly dead; and for a while there Atem had been truly dead. It was shocking to have learned that his name had been stricken from recorded history. Oh for sure he had been known about well enough in certain circles – Malik and Isis had told him enough of that (and so had Sarah when he could catch her on the phone), but only as the Nameless Pharaoh.

_So then why…?_ Atem exhaled, cursing under his breath. Why was he still dwelling on the past? He was no longer of that world and of that life. This _is my new life now_, he reminded himself firmly. _I did not get the opportunity to make my mark before. I will _not_ let that opportunity pass me by again._

"Oh my god! Yuugi? Is that you?"

Atem didn't realize he was being addressed until she was touching his shoulder. A blond, busty, long-limbed, pale-skinned, gorgeous vision of a woman popped into his line of sight. For a second he wondered if not the goddess Isis herself had descended before him. He turned from his screening of the river and tried not to gape too openly.

The woman halted in her tracks, performed the rapid blinking motion of a double-take, before a wide pearly grin asserted itself across her striking face. "Oh I am so sorry. For a second there, I thought you were a friend of mine. But wow do you ever look like him! You even have the same hair style!" She held up a small pink digital camera, the picture taking device Atem was finding a lot of people always seemed to be carrying around with them (and on this ship that was especially true). "You're the best looking man on this ship, cutie pie. Mind if I take a photo? For posterity? I'm sure my friend will get a kick out of seeing he's not the only one who looks like him."

Atem recovered from his surprise, nodded, and leaned his elbows against the handrail. The woman played with her camera a bit before she held it up in front of her face. "Oh honey, that's perfect. Can you smile for me? Handsome fellow like you should smile." Atem turned his head a bit and gave her one of his enigmatically confident smirks. "That'll do!"

There was a clicking noise, a flash, his vision filled with sparkles, and then it was over. He rubbed his eyes discreetly. The woman fussed with the device again for a second, smiled for some reason, and tucked it away. Returning her attention to him, she stuck out her hand. "Hi, my name is Mai Kujaku." It took a second for Atem to realize this was the Western manner of properly greeting another person. He tentatively laid his own hand in hers and was pleasantly surprised at her firm yet gentle grip.

"Atem."

Mai smiled. "Nice to meet you, Atem. You native?"

This was a chance to practice his English as this woman spoke it fluently (and plus it had been a sore while since he'd been able to converse with a member of the opposite sex who wasn't Isis). "Yes. I am Egyptian."

She winked at him. "I could tell that just from the jewelry you're wearing babe. So are you just out enjoying the sights or you going somewhere?"

"Yes. I have never been on a ship before and my friend thought this would be good for me to take a sight-seeing trip. He is right." He glanced at the Nile briefly and then back to her. "But I did not expect to have to choose between my sights."

Mai put a hand on one hip. "Is that so?" she replied dryly.

He imitated her stance. Said nothing… but his lips did twitch upward just a bit.

Mai's eyes did a curious little up and down thing over his form – and seemed to like what she saw, for her smile seemed to broaden just a bit more. Her wanton display of flirtation would have astonished him if he hadn't been expecting it. _Why_ he expected it, he didn't know, as he had never met the woman before. Yet she wasn't surprising him at all with her behavior. _I feel like I know her from somewhere,_ he thought, _but from _where_? We've never met before I don't think… _A wrinkle of concentration appeared between his eyebrows. _Very strange. _

"Hey," she interrupted his ruminations. "You duel?"

"Duel?"

"Play Duel Monsters, you know the card game?"

"I do, yes."

Mai eyes seemed to glow in anticipation. "Well now, that's just what I wanted to hear. Do you have a duel disk?"

"Pardon?"

She stared at him oddly. "The device you wear on your arm? You use it to play the game?"

Atem shook his head. "I know not of what you speak. I do not use one."

"What do you use?"

"I sit on the ground or at a table."

Mai laughed and patted him on the arm. "You poor thing! No worries, I have two in my luggage. Do you want to play a short game with me before we disembark? I promise I'll go easy on ya." She winked at him again.

Atem nodded once and folded his arms. "I promise nothing."

Mai caught the gleam of challenge in his eye and seemed to realize she had not run into just any idle duelist. Her face lost its cheer, and simmered down into something more serious and searching. "You know, you really _do_ remind me of my friend," she said quietly. "He used to get that look in his eye too when he was about to duel."

He gave her serene look. "I may have to meet this friend of yours."

"You may yet." Another wink. "Do you have your deck on you?" He pulled it from his back pocket and held it up. "Awesome. My bag is just right over there. Be back in a sec."

"I will be here." Not that there was, he reflected amusedly, anywhere for him to go at the moment. He watched her blend into the crowd and turned his gaze back to the river. Malik chose that very instance to appear at his side. "There you are. I saw you talking to that blond. Where'd she go?"

"She'll be back. She just went to get these duel disk items." Atem turned up his palm and showed him his deck. "We're going to play a game."

Atem didn't think Malik's eyes could get much bigger than they did then. "You challenged someone to a duel on a _tourist liner_?"

"No. _She_ challenged _me_." The former god king bounced slightly on his heels. "This will be interesting. I have never played against anyone other than you."

"And again it starts," Malik muttered under his breath. Atem frowned at the remark, opened his mouth to ask him what he meant by it, when Mai reappeared, with two of what he assumed to be duel disks tucked underneath both arms. "Hey, told you I'd be back." She halted again, right dead still, and stared at the both of them with an open mouth. "_Malik Ishtar_?"

Malik was staring at her too, ashen with trepidation. "_Mai_?" His eyes darted from her to Atem and back again. A heavy, awkward silence descended upon them. The clamor of the other passengers seemed to intrude and grow deafening for several minutes. Tired of standing there while Malik and Mai ogled one another, Atem decided to take charge of things. "If we are to duel, we should begin now. Our itinerary appears almost complete and I would like to have finished our duel before then. Perhaps after, Malik, you will tell me how you and Mai came to know one another."

Malik swallowed – hard. "Uh, yeah, um, all right." Almost as if in a daze, he backed up and stuck out an arm, shifting his attention to the crowd, directing people away, and asking them to move back. Meanwhile Mai, who had recovered from her shock quickly, was showing Atem how to put on the dueling device. She showed him where to put his deck, where to put each of his cards into play, and then held out her hand for his deck, while offering hers to him. After they'd shuffled, they took opposing positions, and activated their duel disks.

"Your move, handsome."

Atem gave her a thin smirk. "That's not how it works, beautiful."

Grasping at what he was implying, Mai's face brightened in an admiring way. "Good-looking _and_ a gentleman too. Alrighty then." She picked up a card between two fingers and placed it down. "If I win, I get one date with you."

_Well then, everyone wins that way!_ Atem was pleased but he couldn't allow her to know that. He merely nodded once to acknowledge he'd heard her terms, and proceeded to select from the five cards in his hand. He was vaguely aware of Malik hovering nearby, looking on anxiously, but decided to deal with him and his odd behavior later. It was time to duel!

* * *

**Author's Note:** _The name of Atem's former lover is a nod to the fandom-created incarnation of Yuugi and nothing more. I have only used the name, it does not mean what it would normally imply in other fanfiction. Personally I do not believe Yuugi could have had a counter part in ancient Egypt as I am of the fandom school of thought that Atem and Yuugi are two halves of a split soul. The ancient ruins that have been mentioned do still exist today._


	10. Dueling is as Dueling Does

"**Dueling is as Dueling Does"**

"Isis?"

Isis glanced up from her contemplations, startled. Her shoulders visibly relaxed when she saw that the intruder in her study was only Rishid. "Yes? What is it?" she asked.

Rishid held up his mobile. "Malik is on the phone. He wishes to speak with you."

Isis pushed back her chair, smiling a little. "I hope they reached shore safely. Those boat rides down the Nile can be so unpredictable." Taking the phone, she held it to her ear, shrugging a lock of black hair over one shoulder as she continued to skim her scrolls. Translating an entire library for the Museum of Antiquities was an arduous and time-consuming job but the large sum of money the chore was bringing in could not be refused. So long as the actual scrolls themselves remained in their proper places, Isis did not mind the task. They would be _accurate_ translations: that was all she cared about.

"Brother?"

"Hey there Big Sis!" Malik sounded like his usual cheerful self. "Are you all right?"

"A question I should be asking you. I am fine. How are you? Have you reached shore yet?"

"We're good. We'll be docking in a few minutes."

"Good!" Relief washed over her. "How is Atem?"

Pause. "He's all right."

Isis picked up on the hesitation, the forced evenness of the reply. "Malik, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I… well…" His exhalation blew into the mouth piece of the phone. "We may or may not have a problem," he ended with rueful finality.

Isis stiffened, her whole body growing rigid with fear. "What happened?"

"We've run into Mai Kujaku."

Isis inhaled sharply. That could mean trouble. "Did she recognize…?"

"No," Malik cut in, much to her relief. "She doesn't know he's the Pharaoh. I don't think she ever actually understood that Yuugi and Atem were separate from one another. She wasn't involved toward the end, if you remember."

"I remember." Isis felt the tightness in her chest begin to uncoil, the panic beginning to subside. "What was her reaction to you?"

Malik made an "hmm" sound, before, "So far she's nervous and she won't look me in the eye, but she seems okay. I think the fact that _I_ obviously find it awkward being around _her_ too is what's keeping her calm." He chuckled. "Atem is _really_ dazzling her, so she's more focused on him than me now. I don't think I ever remember seeing a woman so smitten in all my life. _He_ certainly isn't minding the attention."

Isis fought a tremulous grin threatening to break out across her face. Even when they had only known him as the other half of Yuugi, he had stoically basked in the attention of his fans and well-wishers. Coupled with what he'd told her about his love of the Fairer Sex during his pharaonic existence, it came as no surprise.

"There's something else you should know." Deep breath. "They're dueling."

Isis felt her insides freeze. "They're… _dueling_? On the _boat_?"

"Yes. Mai had duel disks, annnnd it looks like they've just finished."

Isis closed her eyes. _I_ _should have never let either of them leave the village!_ "How did Atem react?" she couldn't help querying.

At this Malik began to laugh, seeming to know exactly what she was asking. "Oh _man_, you should have been here. He _freaked_. He thought the holograms were _real_ and demanded to know what sorcery conjured them. Oh he was _livid_." Despite his last statement, Malik was still laughing. "I know, I know, I'm not being nice, but if you _could have seen his face_, you'd understand what I mean. It was a Kodak moment." He took a breath to calm down. "But he got over his shock and he and Mai were able to duel."

"How was it? You said it just finished?"

"Yes. It was fantastic! Maybe it's because it's been a while since I've watched a duel, but watching _him_ duel again…" Malik made a nostalgic little sigh Isis felt right through the connection. "It brought back memories, I tell you. I'm just grateful his deck isn't the same as it was before otherwise I think Mai might have been able to put two and two together."

Isis let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Do you think she will?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. There _is_ such a thing as two people looking nearly exactly alike. I very much doubt we have anything to worry about."

Isis did too… but only just barely. "Did you notice anything else?"

"Yes." Here Malik lowered his voice, _sotto voce_, indicating he was probably trying to keep from being overheard. "He knew exactly how to fight her. His face seemed to light up with every move she made, like he _remembered_ what attacks she would try and what trap cards she would play. If I didn't know any better, I would have said it was scary, like he had ESP or something." His whispers became eager. "I think Atem may have those memories, Isis, they're just repressed. I can't really explain it to you, you'd have to be here to see, but I think I can keep trying."

_Oh Malik,_ Isis thought sadly. He would never give up. "I hope so," was all she said, and she meant it.

"I've got to go now, Atem's looking my way. We'll be home in another day or so."

"All right. Take care."

"We will."

* * *

The duel with Mai turned out to be the single most exhilarating experience Atem could remember having in his renewed lease on life. Not only did he have the wonderful honor of battling with an excellent (and very attractive) opponent, he was treated to new technologies he still swore involved some form of magic, regardless of what Malik had explained to him. He fought to remain distant and unaffected by the holograms but he couldn't help reacting – they just looked so real! At one point between moves, he reached out and tried to poke his Red Eyes Black Dragon, to see if he could touch it. It appeared solid but his hand passed through it when his fingers would have expected to encounter a rough scaly hide. A few onlookers chuckled at his child-like naiveté and he had to endure the Mai woman cat-calling, "Don't worry, honey, he won't bite ya! Besides he's _your_ card!"

He tolerated her jeers, and the ensuing laughter of their audience, with stoic aplomb. His upbringing prevented him from snarling back, save for a well-placed glare, and a few showy arm gestures, which more than made up for any embarrassment he was subjected to. Mai was a product of this world, he was still catching up. Besides when someone's life points were as low as hers was, he figured he would likely have the last laugh.

He was right.

Mai accepted her defeat with grace befit of a great noblewoman. She met him in the middle amongst whistles and applause and extended her palm for another handshake. "Good game, sweetie pie," she told him. "It's been quite some time since someone's beaten me so soundly." The crowd dispersed and returned to their activities.

Atem couldn't resist. "It was not difficult." Before her face could darken into a storm cloud of rage, he added. "Unfortunately it seems we cannot fulfill the terms of the duel. May I make up for that?"

Mai released his hand. "How so?" _And why_? was the unspoken rest of her question.

He answered in as a grand fashion as he could muster. "It has been a while since I have had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of someone such as you. May I purchase you a drink?" _I truly hope I said that right,_ he worried. _It always seems to work in the movies I have seen._

The blond woman did the up and down thing with her eyes again, and turned her head, feigning indecision. "Huh. You are a hard one to predict aren't you?" She appeared to be debating internally, tapping one elegantly booted heel, before she smiled dazzlingly, stepped in close, and took his proffered arm. "All right, you've charmed me over, and I'm a hard sell, sweetie."

He rewarded her implicit challenge with one of his infamous smirks. "You will find that I am a hard buy." Yes, the innuendo was deliberate, but he wanted to see how far he could go with being suggestive, as the concept was fairly new to him. _Implying_ interest seemed to be something women appreciated more than _wanton_ interest.

Her answering smile, and the wicked flash in her eye, told him he had not only succeeded, but she had appreciated it. "Very nice."

Atem gave himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, and turned his head to acknowledge Malik, who was just getting off his mobile phone. "Malik, where will we be going now?"

Malik flicked out his wrist and glanced at the time. "Probably we should find something to eat," he replied nonchalantly. To Mai, he said, very politely, "You are more than welcome to join us."

Betraying just the hint of trembling, Mai watched him carefully. There was a strange apprehension in her eyes Atem couldn't understand. Yes, they knew one another, but in what capacity? It certainly wasn't a positive one, from the tension that hung so thickly in the air. Atem discreetly looked back and forth between the two and resolved to remain vigilant should anything happen. He hoped not. He liked Mai. Even if this brief liaison didn't go anywhere, he wanted the woman to leave them with good memories. After all, what was worse than losing a duel other than to lose your appetite in more ways than one?

* * *

Malik scowled as he stared down between the ice cubes and mint leaves of his Mojito, absently poking at the cubes with his straw. He glanced across the seafood restaurant at the bar where Atem and Mai were seated on a couple of stools, deep in discussion (well, sort of, Mai was talking, Atem was mostly listening). This was _not_ how he had wanted to spend showing off modern Egypt to Atem! Granted, he was happy to see that Mai was doing all right, and had fully recovered from her… encounter with him, but this _new_ more psychologically positive encounter was leaving him as the odd man out. He wasn't jealous of them. In fact, on the contrary, he was glad Atem was attempting to reach out of the small circle he had been enclosed in for a few months now. The guy needed all of the social interaction he could get. So for that reason, he was content with staying back and giving them some privacy. Additionally, Mai's presence was also serving another purpose: potentially provoking Atem's memories.

He has to remember, Malik insisted to the penetrating doubts lingering nastily in the back of his mind. It didn't make any sense why Atem didn't remember his time in the modern world as a spirit. Were memories inherent only to the bodies in which they were contained in? Was that why when the spirit returned to his last incarnation he could only remember his life as pharaoh up until the moment of his untimely death? Because they were all that body, that mind, had? If so, it went a long way to explain why when people reincarnated they didn't remember anything about their former lives. Hadn't Atem thought he was one of his priests, Karim, or Isis and Rishid as other priests of his? He had seen this Mana person in Amanda Hawkins. But none of them remembered those lives. Was it so hard to believe then that Atem, of course, wouldn't remember his time here?

Yes, because that time came _after_ his actual death, he reminded himself. Perhaps it was a case of selective amnesia? Could Atem maybe just not _want_ to remember? Or was this new life a sort of reincarnation and his previous existence as a spirit was considered by whatever decided these things a past "life"? Or did it not count because he had been a spirit and not technically a person? Moreover, had _Atem's_ spirit returned to the body or did another one return to reside there? There was a phenomenon referred to as "walking in" when a spirit left a dying body and a new one came and replaced it when it was brought back from the brink of death. The _person_ stayed the same but their habits, the people they spent time with, and their interests changed radically. _No, that couldn't be it._ Then again, he _hadn't_ known the real Atem back in ancient times, so he couldn't make a comparison. Was deep regression hypnosis a possible solution?

_Oh I'm getting a headache_. Malik rubbed at his forehead and over his eyes. Did it _really_ matter whether or not he remembered? He seriously asked himself. Atem seemed happy, eager to learn about the world, to create a life and memories made out of what began the moment he opened his eyes inside of his sarcophagus. Did anyone have the right to force him to remember things he probably quite literally _couldn't_ remember because they weren't a part of his natural memories?

He didn't know. Moral dilemmas were Yuugi's specialty, not his.

Oh my god, were they _kissing_? Malik stared across the restaurant. Mai was leaning over, hand on Atem's leather clad thigh, and currently engaging the former pharaoh in an intimate lip-lock… and he _wasn't_ pulling away. Atem closed his eyes, leaned up into the kiss, started to reach for Mai's chin, before the woman withdrew suddenly and removed her hand. She hopped down from the stool, pressed something into Atem's hand, winked at him, grabbed her things, and began to leave. Atem turned on the stool and caught her arm. Malik could see the questions in his eyes even from where he was sitting. She paused, kissed Atem again on the cheek, whispered something in his ear, and gently disengaged her arm from his hand. Atem watched the woman all the way out of the restaurant until she disappeared from view. His head lowered and his mouth turned upside down.

_Oh hell_. Malik pushed up from his table and shoved aside his personalized pity party. It was time he got over there and did some manly consoling before Atem started crying in public. _He's lucky he has me_, Malik thought, though this thought came with an edge of melancholy. _Even though I know deep down in my heart I nor Mai are the ones Atem truly needs. _


	11. The Exhibit

"**The Exhibit"**

Atem didn't understand what had gone wrong. It wasn't like he _expected_ the woman to have fallen instantly in love with him, nor should he have expected much to have come from a single kiss. But her swift departure and meaningless words of good luck in life harshly reminded him how transitory brief encounters between men and women could be. _I hope you find yourself a man you won't be so eager to run away from, Mai Kujaku_! He silently called after her. _It hurts to love and lose but it hurts even more to never have loved at all._ An unhappy smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. That was another movie, wasn't it? _Love Story._ He upended the last of his red wine, grimacing at the sour aftertaste that lingered on his tongue. _This definitely is not how I remember wine tasting!_ He scowled at the glass goblet in revulsion, huddling over the top of the bar. Why did not any of the foods and drinks he remembered from his old life taste right? It was very disappointing.

Atem sat up straight on the bar stool when he felt Malik's hand clap him on the shoulder heartily. He looked up unenthusiastically as he watched the other man settle on the stool the blond had abandoned. "How are you doing?"

"She left." Vaguely inebriated, Atem pointed to make sure Malik understood. "She said I was beautiful and wonderful but that we weren't right for each other, thanked me for the drink and then she _left_." He lifted his head, suddenly remembering the message in his hand. "Oh, she gave me this to give it to you. I can't read it." He presented a small square of paper to his friend. Malik took it and unfolded it. He read it out loud:

"'_Malik - Sorry I can't say this to your face because I just can't bring myself to speak to you yet but I want you to know the next time we duel, I won't be afraid. We're square. Your friend was fantastic. Please tell him I hope that we can duel again someday – Mai_.'"

Malik crunched the note up in his hand and shook his head, more amused than irritated at Mai's backhandedness. "For a woman who's so forward, she can be awful timid about certain things. But I can't say that I'm surprised." He shook his head, stuffed the note into a pocket, and pointed at Atem's empty glass. "Are you done?" Atem nodded. "How many did you have?"

"One…. No…" Atem's thoughts had slowed down to a fraction of their usual speed. "I had two." He held up two fingers and practically stuck them in Malik's face. "Two _definitely_."

Malik brushed his hand away. "Good, because I want to stop off at one last place before we head back home. Are you sober enough for that?"

"Yes." Despite the small fuzzy cloud around his brain, Atem's interest was piqued. Malik had a strange sort of gleam in his eye, like he was hiding a secret. Still… he gazed after the direction Mai had fled, still feeling a bit forlorn. "How can she just kiss someone like that and leave?" he murmured quietly.

"Hey." He glanced back at Malik, who was wearing a strangely intense expression on his face. "She's not the last woman you'll ever have eyes for. I promise you, you will find someone who can see you for the great guy I know you are." Atem smiled a little in such a way, Malik formed an immediate X with his arms. "And if you start hitting on _me_, I swear I'll leave you here to walk home on your own!"

Atem burst out laughing, that rare, deep, hearty laugh he rarely allowed himself outside of his conversations on the phone with Sarah Chanson. He couldn't wait to tell her about this. Well, not _this_, but the whole sight-seeing part of the trip – and the duel too so she would have something interesting to tell her assistant. "You do not have to worry about that, Malik." He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered loudly. "You are not my type."

Malik leaned back, squinted one eye weirdly, and hopped off the stool. "Ohhhkay." He took out his wallet and slapped a few bills and change on the counter. "I think we'll get you some cold water to drink before we go – and a stick of mint gum. If we're going to be sitting that close to one another in a cab, I don't want to have to smell wine on your breath the whole way."

"Okay." Atem carefully slid off the stool. He had to stand there for a moment to regain his balance and bearing, blinking slowly, giving a couple of shakes of his head. Would this floating sensation ever go away? He could see Malik watching him warily, shaking his own head in silent disapproval. "I am never letting you drink in public again." He signaled the bartender, ordered a bottle of spring water, and departed with Atem sucking down its contents. Wine dehydrated him and the cold sensation of the water going down his throat pierced through a little of the fog his mind was in. He felt Malik palm him a stick of gum before he hailed them a cab, hissing to him before getting into it, "Don't swallow it this time. It's not actually food. Spit it out when the flavor is gone." Pause, then, in a muttered afterthought, "And use a trash can, don't just spit it anywhere."

Atem made a face and folded his arms over his chest, slouching against the back seat, insulted. What did Malik think he was, an ill-mannered child? _I'll show him_. He chewed a little louder to put emphasis on his aggravation, and for good measure, blew a tiny bubble that snapped noisily when it broke. By the time they reached their destination, Atem was smirking in triumph, Malik was wearing a piece of gum on his nose, and the cab driver was having the laugh of his life.

"I am _never_ going anywhere with you ever again," Malik mumbled, furious and red-faced at having been humiliated so thoroughly. He plucked the offending green gob off his nose and tossed it into the nearest trash can. Atem merely raised his chin, quietly proud of his juvenile achievement. _Play with_ my _fire and you best prepared to be burned!_ Of course, he dared not quote this notion aloud, knowing Malik would somehow find a way to use the words as a weapon later. Malik may not be the best duelist around but he excelled in other areas Atem felt were best left untested.

"Where are we?" Atem finally took notice of the building they were standing in front of, before he grinned suddenly, recognizing where they were. He'd only been here once, on the day they'd left the place, but he remembered it well enough. Looking back at Malik, he asked curiously, "Why have you brought me here again?" Sudden hope flared from within. "Has… Has Sarah returned?" His heart rate increased and he felt capricious in a way that had nothing to do with the affects of the wine. While he often spent many hours on the phone with the Egyptologist, (much to Isis's evident dismay when she saw the telephone bill, and even though it visibly displeased her, she did not tell him to stop or limit their calls to one another) not once had she mentioned in any of their recent conversations about returning to Egypt.

Malik winced, flinched visibly. "Dr. Chanson? No, ah, no she's not here. Sorry." The former god king felt his whole body wilt in disappointment. "There's something I want you to see." He settled his hand around Atem's forearm and began tugging him toward the glass doors of the museum. Atem ceased craning his head backward in a futile attempt in trying to encompass all of the building in at once, and followed the youngest Ishtar into its dimly lit air-conditioned recesses.

* * *

It took quite some time for Malik to get Atem up to the floor of the exhibit he wanted to show him. Atem had never been to a museum before, and of course just _had_ to see everything else it had to offer along the way. They had to stop and read aloud every placard and look at every exhibit that fascinated him. The Tutankhamun collection was of an especial source of interest – and vexation - to Atem.

"How can a pharaoh who appears to have accomplished so little in his reign," he argued, "have achieved such a large place in modern memory? Is it because of the contents of his tomb, (which it looks like most of it didn't even _belong_ to him) or the great controversy surrounding the manner of his death?" He threw up his hands in nearly spastic arcs; his crimson-brown eyes alight with that infamously righteous, majestic fury Malik had grown to know too well during that time they had been pitted against one another a few years ago. "Is that all there is to being remembered? By how much… by how much _stuff_ you leave behind that tomb robbers haven't plundered?"

Shushing him, as his ranting was attracting stares from a museum guide and a small group of Japanese tourists, Malik placated his friend by steering him away from the Tutankamun exhibit.

Atem, of course, wasn't done ranting yet. "I mean, take Ptolemy Cleopatra VII for example…"

"Shh!"

The pharaoh lowered his voice, but not the passion of his speech. Malik gave an inward groan. "This woman leaves behind nothing, not a body, nor a tomb, and yet more is known about her life than many rulers who left behind _both _body and tomb. Tell me, does that not reek of injustice to you?"

_Please kill me._ Malik rubbed the space between his eyebrows and sighed heavily, trying to settle on how delicately to put this. "Look, no offense, Atem, I _really_ want to be able to agree with your moral outrage, but these kinds of debates are best left to those who make their careers out of having them."

Atem sniffed. "You mean _Sarah_," he all but sneered.

He winked. "Yes, I mean her exactly."

It was remarkable the affect that had on Atem. He got that caught-in-the-headlights look for a moment. A light dusting of red appeared on his upper cheeks and then abruptly he turned his head sharply, clearing his throat rather loudly. Malik's mouth quirked into a little smile, watching as Atem suddenly became preoccupied with a reproduction of hieroglyphics display on a nearby wall as they might have been carved into a tomb. _Atem really has taken a shine to that woman, _he thought piqued, _and they only met in person once several months ago and have only ever conversed on the phone since_. He bit back a snort of laughter watching Atem stand royally before a statue of another god of about his height, arms folded over his chest in imitation of the silent stony figure before him.

Malik spotted his destination up ahead, and moved toward it, knuckling Atem on the back as he went. "That's a staring contest you're destined to lose, my friend. Come on, what I want to show you is up ahead."

"Hmm?" Atem turned his head, distracted. "Oh. All right." Pause. "Then may we visit the hall of gem stones?" Malik's back was facing Atem, so he couldn't see the faint exasperation appear on his face. It was becoming well known amongst all three Ishtars Atem had an insatiable love of shiny things (and leather). One could only imagine, considering how much gold that had been found in his tomb. Speaking of which…

"Here we are." Malik leaned on the circular threshold of the small room and folded his arms. Saying no more, he watched Atem pass him, entering the display area, almost as if he had been placed under a trance. He fought back a chuckle. _Let's see him rant now about accomplishments and memories!_

The exhibit was dedicated to Pharaoh Atem. His sarcophagus was there (under glass) with a placard. Alongside of it in another glass box with velvet ropes surrounding it (and invisible laser beams most likely) was the funerary mask. The display lights were situated under it in such a way, it seemed to glow all on its own. On the walls were painstaking reproductions of the wall paintings found inside his tomb, made to appear just the way they had the day they had been carved and painted. There were other more personal objects too. A chair, a chest, the Canopic jars, a few toys, some scrolls, and several board games. There were a few statues here and there. Along the back wall was a full recessed display of the Millennium Items. They were set in a radial fashion, each with its own placard, with the Puzzle starring in the center.

When Atem finally reached the center of the room, he laid his hand upon the display containing his casket he turned back to his friend, a look of astonishment on his face. "Is… this… Is this everything?"

"No." _Thankfully_. "This is just what can be afforded to be displayed. The more delicate and the broken artifacts are being kept down in the basement." He waved a hand vaguely toward the floor to illustrate. "What do you think?"

Atem looked around again, an indescribable expression on his dark face. "I'm not sure. I'm… flattered, yet… On one hand I am outraged and on the other I am very happy to no longer remain forgotten under the sands of time." He breathed out and finally met Malik's gaze. "Does that sound strange to you?"

Malik shook his head. "No. I think that makes sense." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway I just wanted you to see this. What you said back there…"

Atem colored a bit. "It was presumptuous. I admit that my indignation was misplaced." He moved toward the Millennium Items and just stood there, gazing at them. "They… are empty. I can no longer sense their power." He sounded surprised and he glanced at Malik who had come to stand along beside him. He seemed to read the unreadable on his friend's face. "There is another reason you have brought me here."

"Yeah." Malik finally looked at him, pulse silently racing. "We've…" his voice strained. "We've been keeping things from you." _Isis is going to kill me but I _have_ to try._

"Yes. I know."

This was not the response he had expected. It was Malik's turn to be astounded. "Wait, what? You _know_? Then why…?"

The pharaoh returned his eyes to the Items. "I didn't want to ask," he replied softly. He placed his hand over the display of the Puzzle, gazing into the etching of the Eye of Horus. He appeared pained, torn, a sight he had not seen on the man's face since the day he was resurrected. "I am afraid."

Malik touched his shoulder to reassure him. This was it, it was now or never. "Is there anything that's been going through your mind that doesn't make sense to you?" he asked him quietly.

Visibly amused, Atem barked a short laugh. "You will have to be more specific. There are a _lot_ of things that go through my mind that do not make sense to me."

He fished around. "Like, for instance, people. Is there anyone you've met or spoken to that has seemed familiar to you? Not," he added hastily, "in the way you remember them for sure, but in another way you may feel that you know them?"

Convinced he would resist, he was relieved when Atem folded his arms and set to thinking. "Well," he finally began. "I felt I knew that woman, Mai Kujaku. Her deck, her strategies, and the way she played… It felt like that French word you use for feeling as if you've seen or done something before. _Déjà vu _I think it is called. I felt as though I had fought her before." At length, he looked up at his friend hopefully. "Is that what you mean?"

Trying not to show his excitement, Malik inwardly pumped his fist in triumph. "Yes, that is what I mean exactly. Anyone else?"

Atem nodded.

"Who?"

"You."

Malik held his breath.

Atem didn't need another prompt, he kept on talking. "You remind me of Karim yet I know you are not him, nonetheless I feel you, as you are now, _are_ someone I have known before." He took a deep breath in preparation for his next revelation. "I have never told any of you about this but… I have seen you in some of my dreams. In those dreams there is a golden eye in the center of your forehead. You are holding that," he pointed to the Millennium Rod, "and your hair… It's beyond my comprehension on how it sticks up on end like it does. But, it _was_ a dream." He gave another short laugh. "I can understand why that might be exaggerated."

_No,_ Malik murmured privately, _it sounds exactly right to me._ "Go on," he encouraged, still trying to keep how tense he was from showing.

Atem scrunched his face up in thought. "You are… demonic, is the only way I can describe it. Yet there is another side I see, the side of you as you are now. The evil in you is gone the moment I perceive it. I do not understand it." He gestured, at a loss. "Perhaps that is simply my subconscious mind. But it does not explain some of the other things." He sank down to the floor then, knees sticking up, with his elbows hanging loosely over them. Malik sank down beside him and joined him in propping their backs up against the wall. "This is going to sound very strange. I…" His gaze shifted nervously. Clearly he was not comfortable with the quiet, candid atmosphere between them. Malik kept expecting him to start squirming. He decided not to add to the pressure by prompting and simply just let the other man take his time.

Eventually Atem let his head rock back, so that he was staring at the ceiling. "My reflection," he blurted.

"Your reflection?"

Atem regarded him out of the corner of his eye, distant, defensive. "You are going to think I am crazy."

_No more crazy than I ever was_. Malik shrugged. "Try me."

The man returned to his contemplation of the displays. "Sometimes I see another face when I look in the mirror. For a moment, I am startled, and think something is wrong with me. Why do I have red eyes? Why is my skin brown? And my hands!" He lifted one to demonstrate. "I look down at them and wonder why they aren't paler in color. It does not make sense to me because I know myself, I _know_ I am Egyptian. But I still think I am someone else. Yet that isn't the most frightening thing." Atem was hard as stone. "Some nights when I lie awake, I find myself thinking of an awful scene. I don't understand why it comes to me with the clarity of memory because it does not fit in with anything that I know about my past. I… I probably should not tell you."

"No!" Malik protested, moving to face the pharaoh. "It's okay. You can tell me. Nothing you say to me will leave this room, I promise." He meant it too. What was going on here was going with him to the grave. What he was pushing out of Atem now was only for Atem's benefit and no one else's.

Going inward, Atem crossed his arms over his knees, contemplating his next words. "There is a green light." He began slowly, methodically. "I'm surrounded by it and I can't move. I'm helpless. I'm afraid… and I feel awful. I've done a terrible thing. Then suddenly somebody pushes me from behind! I stumble forward a few steps and then… and then when I turn around… I see someone. It's myself, my other self, the one that I think I'm supposed to look like, but don't." Malik realized he's stopped breathing. "He's smiling, and then he speaks, and when he does, he's telling me it's all right, that he trusts me. I want him to stay, I _beg_ him to stay, and then… then he's _gone_." Overwhelmed, Atem buries his face in the shelter of his arms. "It doesn't make any _sense_." He lifted his head again, and Malik was shocked to see tears clinging to his lashes. "I see this face, and then I know it isn't me, yet it _is_ a part of me. Sometimes I can almost _hear_ the voice of that other face speaking to me." Suddenly he lunged at Malik, startling the other man. "Is there something evil within me?" His eyes darted back and forth, unfocused, panicked. His hands fluttered around, grabbed at his blond bangs and clawed at his temples. "Please, do not keep it from me. I do not want to be a danger to you or to your family."

Malik grabbed hold of the other man by the shoulders and shook him. "_Atem_!" he pronounced harshly. "Get a grip!"

Coming out of his encroaching hysterics in a way that reminded Malik of someone dousing cold water over someone's face, Atem stilled, tensed, blinked, and then gradually the muscles in his arms began to release and relax. "It seems," he observed at length, inordinately pleased with his situation, "I have a _very_ good grip."

_No kidding!_ Annoyed, Malik managed to jerk out of the other's hands and rubbed his arms with overstated vigor, his expression sour. "Ouch! What the hell did you used to do, squeeze coconuts?" he grumbled, peering at the black and blue marks on his skin.

"No." Atem smirked. "We did not have those. But I found that pomegranates are _very_ effective exercising tools."

The youngest Ishtar rose, fists with him. "You short, little, midget-sized…"

The former ruler of ancient land of Kemet slapped the floor in a gesture of mirth and shook his head as he stood up. "_'Do not mock a man for his height, for he shall always find a way to cut his opponent down to size_,'" he quoted, pointing directly to one of the imitation wall paintings. Malik followed his finger. Those very words were inscribed beneath a dramatization of the pharaoh Atem standing, arms raised, over the form of a kneeling man. "A lesson _that_ old priest learned from me far better than I suspected he liked."

Intrigued, Malik peered more closely at the pictorial. He'd never seen this particular event before. "What was this?"

But his friend just waved at it dismissively. "Oh, a priest at a temple of Amun was overheard verbally disparaging me. He was arrested and brought forth before me for judgment."

Speaking against Pharaoh or mocking Pharaoh was considered an act of treason back in ancient Egypt. Of all people, Malik knew _that_ little fact nugget better than he liked. "So what happened?"

"Look at the next picture."

Malik did, and gasped, whipping back on Atem, and then he began laughing. "You bastard!"

Atem merely folded his arms. "It was either _that_ or death. I was expected to punish him in _some_ manner and, well, it seemed a little harsh to _kill_ the man over it."

"But _that_… Man, Atem…" Malik managed to get his chuckles under control. _I never knew he had it in him. _No wonder the ancient Egyptians recorded it, it was just too good not to preserve into stone.

Atem just winked before he pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "Now about that gemstone exhibit… May we go see that now?"

Flabbergasted at the abrupt switching of mood and subject, Malik wanted to squawk in protest – _what do you mean you want to see the gemstone exhibit, we've been making psychological break-throughs by leaps and bounds here, and now all of a sudden you want to look at a bunch of shiny rocks, the hell man!_ – Instead he merely followed his friend's lead, perturbed but mostly satisfied. It was more progress than he ever hoped he would have gotten today – or at _all_. There would come a time to debate everything in the interim. Right now he needed to keep an eye on an ancient pharaoh loose inside a museum filled with thousands of breakables.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _No, I will not tell you how Atem punished that priest. It's one of those things that an author leaves up to the reader's imagination. I do not know for sure if the museum in Cairo has a gem stone exhibit but since most museums do, I have included one here. Otherwise any historical errors are mine._


	12. Weep Not For the Memories

"**Weep Not For the Memories"**

After a few glorious hours exploring the wonderful creation of man known as a museum (at least Atem thought so… Malik became bored long before he did), both men decided to take their dinner in the museum café. The prices, according to his friend, were "outrageous" but Malik was feeling too peckish to seek elsewhere for sustenance. They found a booth in a cozy little corner away from the rest of the patrons, easy to do since this was the low end of the tourist season, and there weren't very many people around.

Malik sipped distractedly at his milkshake, kind of staring off into space, alternating between that and disinterestedly plucking at his own food. Atem was enjoying his first grilled cheese sandwich made with mozzarella and American cheese. Every bite he took sent him to proverbial heaven. He had to admit, despite his earlier griping, some of the foods of this era _were_ incredibly delicious! He couldn't help getting a constant kick out of that fact. Every fruit and vegetable was always fresh, the meats were always well-cooked, and the food combinations that were available seemed beyond endless. The café alone seemed to have quite a global smorgasbord of meals. Gone it seemed was an Egypt where its citizens' welfare depended on the annual flooding of the Nile. In its place was something that had proven to be a far more effective survival strategy: international commerce.

"Atem. Napkin." Malik snatched one from the small container on the table and tossed it at him.

Unperturbed, Atem licked his lips, grabbed the papery tissue, and wiped at his mouth. "Thank you. I admit my table manners are not the best."

Malik affected a slight smile and went back to his fries. "No worse than some of my other friends. You eat like a high-born English courtier compared to them."

Atem was pleased, and just a little proud. "You would be half right. I am _quite_ high-born." Putting down his sandwich, he used the same napkin to wipe the butter that had been on the toasted outsides off his fingers. The affects of the wine had gradually worn off over the course of the afternoon. By the time the both of them had sat down to eat, Atem was completely, and thankfully, sober. _Never again_, he swore. Those lingering feelings of loneliness and sadness that remained in small remnants in his soul had been amplified by the alcohol. For that reason, if for no other, Atem apprehended no desire to cling to a drink that brought these negative emotions to the surface. Forward, not backward. Today, not yesterday: that was how he was living, how he _must_ keep living.

He noticed Malik listlessly pushing the rest of his food around on his plate, and frowned. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. Perhaps it was best not to ask. In his months of living with the Ishtars, Atem had learned a lot about his new family. If Malik needed to talk and get something out, he would. Thoughtfully Atem stirred his straw around his ice cube festooned Diet Coke, looking into the space hanging over his friend's head. His mind was back at the exhibit. He went over the things he'd told Malik. To his own ears, none of what he'd pulled out of the depths of his inner core lived in the village of good sense. Feeling like he'd known Mai, dreaming about Malik, that unexplainable bit with his self-identity issues, and the bizarre vision with the green light… Why _had_ he said all that? It couldn't just be because he had been feeling a little tipsy. Moreover why had his craziness worked Malik up so much? Why the strange questions? Why…?

_Why seems to be my word for the day. All right, self, here goes… In for the kill! _Resolute to the task, Atem reached across the table and covered Malik's wrist with one hand, feeling the cool metal of his own golden arm bands against his palm. The other glanced up. He froze when he saw the flint in Atem's dark red eyes. "What do you know about what I've told you?" His voice was the rolling of distant thunder.

Malik drew away, appearing doubtful, unsure. "I'm… I don't know," he mumbled lamely.

He wasn't buying it. Atem peered more closely at his companion and narrowed his gaze. "You said you were keeping things from me." He paused, gathering his thoughts, trying to assemble what he wanted to say into something meaningful. "I am… I am still afraid. I still do not want to know. However I have never been one to live willingly under the wool, no matter how pleasant the bliss of ignorance is. Pray tell… Has this new life of mine been a lie, Malik? Is this me," he gestured toward himself, "this man who sits before you, who plays card games, who wears his gold proudly, and dresses in Western regalia, a pharaoh from the ancient past? Or is he merely an elaborate fiction you have warped me into believing?" His voice turned pleading. "Malik… please… if you are truly the friend and the brother I have come to care for…" He leaned over, desperate to get his point across: "_Who am I?_"

Hesitating only once, Malik finally raised his eyes to him, resolute and firm. "You are Pharaoh." His fingers curled into his palm, trembling slightly. "Everything you were in that life, every moment, every person you ever loved and knew, was real. It all happened the way you remember it. I swear it upon my mother's grave." Atem let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, biting his lips together. His pulse began to race. "You have been here in this world before, Atem." Malik took a long, slow, shaky breath. "When you died 3000 years ago, you sealed your soul into the Millennium Puzzle, the object you once called the God Pyramid. When we met you, Atem, we only knew you as the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle. Before that, most of us only knew you as a seventeen year old Japanese high school student named Yuugi Mutou."

Atem paled. "What?" his voice sounded small and faraway. "I… Did… I don't understand. Is, or was, this Yuugi Mutou person my reincarnation?" He held up his hand then, warding Malik off for a moment. "Wait, then if I was this boy, how could I have been inside of the Puzzle too? I remember breaking it into pieces."

Malik slowly began to shake his head. "No. Yuugi is not your reincarnation. You would not have been able to come back to life if he had been. Yuugi is… You mentioned to me that there is a face that you see in the mirror that is not your face but you think must be. I think what you're remembering is the face of the boy whose body you once inhabited." Malik leaned over the table and lowered his voice. "Is any of this making sense so far?"

Atem sat back, feeling the strength drain from him. Abruptly it leapt upon him with the ferocity of a lion, sinking its claws into his brain and gorging a hole in his conscious mind. Atem's fist clutched over his heart. _"I want a friend who will never betray me, a true friend…"_ a shy, timid voice whispered. Enlivened he lit up and smiled, feeling lighter and giddier than he ever felt in his life. Another voice, two voices, chimed: _"Something you can see but you can't see it..."_ At last, he slid out from behind the booth, energized, restless. "We need to get back to my exhibit," he declared grandly. Not waiting for his companion, he made across the café at a fast clip, leaving poor Malik to scoop up their trash and unfinished sandwiches and toss them hurriedly.

"Wait, whoa, would you hold your horses… _Don't run_!"

But Atem would not be dissuaded nor slowed down. "If what you say is true," he called back over his shoulder, "then I know where my answers lie!"

"What do you mean?"

By the time they reached the exhibit, Malik was leaning on his knees out of breath. Ignoring his own heaving for air, Atem ignored him and stepped up close to where the Puzzle was displayed. He turned back to his friend. "I need to get this out of there. It's important that I touch it directly."

Malik feebly flapped his arms up and down like a bird. "I can't, not without breaking the display and setting off the alarm."

An alarm, he conveyed the display with an eyelid threat. _More of this confounding modern-day magic!_ Atem growled quietly under his breath in aggravation, and turned back to the exhibit, opening and closing his hands rapidly, before he straightened, and held both fists tight at his sides. _I vowed never to call upon them again in this world however I will make the attempt… _He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, deeply, and exhaled the same way. He felt the dark whispers lick against his skin and mind. He would open the door only a crack, just enough to get the task done…

"_No!"_ Seeing what his charge was doing, Malik forcibly inserted his body between the Puzzle and the former spirit. He grabbed hold of his friend and gave him a healthy shove backward and away. "You gave up your life to seal those damn Shadows away, and I'll be _damned_ if I ever have to watch you walk through those doors again!" he growled darkly.

This devastating proclamation froze Atem stark still, effectively slamming the door on his mind and his will. A faint hiss marked the final retreat of the Shadows back into the oblivion they were meant to remain in. He stumbled, encircling his own body with his arms, unable to believe the havoc he had almost wreaked. How could he have extended a willing hand to the very Shadows that had caused so much death and suffering? For the sake of his memories, had he really been so prepared to force the world to go through that again? He stared at the Puzzle, aghast at his own actions. The cost of his desire to know himself completely was simply too high of a price to pay. No, he would not do it in this way. Bringing up his chin, he glanced back at Malik, who was watching him, worried and angry.

Finally he arrived at a solution. "You must secure permission from the museum authorities. It is _vital_ that I be allowed direct access to the Puzzle."

Wiping a few beads of sweat from his brow, Malik nodded, appearing vaguely relieved. "Big Sis has a lot of pull around this place. She might not have any say about what can or cannot be dug up but she can grant you access to the Puzzle provided you don't need to take it outside of the museum."

_Well hell…_ Supremely annoyed, Atem grunted, reddening. "Why did you not tell me this sooner?" he muttered.

"Well, you weren't giving me much time!" Malik replied peevishly. "You kind of just started breaking down the door without asking me if I had the key first."

True. He let it go. "How long will obtaining permission take?"

At this, Malik grinned, and reached into the pocket of his pants. "For as long as it takes for someone to pick up a ringing telephone."

Atem smiled.

It took a lot longer than Atem liked, much to his thinly veiled impatience (he had never been known to be an especially long-suffering king). A lot of lies about their reasons for wanting admission to the Puzzle had to be told. Obviously there wasn't any way under the sun the museum authorities were going to believe that a 3000 year old pharaoh wanted access to his own personal affects! Eventually while succeeding, they still had to wait for the museum to close by the end of the business day. Even with Malik flashing around his handy ID card and security clearance, they were still forced to be enclosed inside of a locked room with a security officer standing guard outside by the door.

"So are you sure the Puzzle is all you need?" Malik asked, nervously checking behind him, as if he expected the guard to come in any moment. He really needn't have worried, since the small room they were sealed in had no other exits other than the one door.

Calmly, Atem held up the Puzzle by its metal chain, watching it sway gently to and fro. The restore artists had done a marvelous job cleaning the artifact up; it shone like the sun itself under the milky bulbs of the room's artificial lighting. "Yes. The other objects _are_ mine, however; they are imprinted by the priests who wielded them. For instance, the Rod you once claimed to have used would know you better than anyone else, barring High Priest Set (May he live forever in Re's light). I could surely handle it without harm, of course, but it was not made for my use." He frowned, at last asking, "Why is there a metal chain attached to it?"

Malik shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Yuugi is the one who put it on there. Maybe he wanted to keep from losing it." There was a long laden pause. "What exactly do you plan on doing with it? I thought you said its power was gone?"

Atem nodded. "The power _is_ gone. It can no longer be used to invoke Shadow Games or switch souls within a living body, this is true. However, my connection with it remains strong as it ever did." He cradled the upside down pendant between his palms and held it close to his heart, closing his eyes. _And maybe, just maybe, it can help me again now… _Murmuring an Egyptian prayer to the gods for their guidance and protection, Atem reached out a tentative mental finger, and tapped the weak consciousness of the Puzzle. At first, there was nothing. He felt its presence, for certain, but there was no actual response. Then he felt a tiny mental movement, a stirring, a sense of sensing, of recognition. Freed from its formerly dark trappings twisting it around in staircases of twisting agony and torment, there was a hidden conveyance of joy and acknowledgment. The Puzzle readily tapped back, its dimness growing stronger, brighter and more tangible to taste. Elated by the welcoming response, Atem smiled and allowed his mind to become drawn into the Puzzle…

When he opened his eyes again, he was struck by what he saw. It was his soul room! The nostalgia it evoked bit harshly, for it was the bedroom of a _per'aa_ - _his_ bedroom - exactly as he remembered it from millennia gone by. The bed itself was rich and large, made from the finest linens and the silkiest cloths. The tapestries were sweeping, vibrant displays that wrought his mouth open at their beauty and number. All of the furniture in the room, from the tables, to the chairs, were made of the finest polished woods and inlaid with intricate gold and shimmering precious stones. A room fit for a pharaoh.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to show up." Brutally removed from his reverie, Atem gasped and spun on the source of the intruder. Behind him, there was a man was seated on a beautiful throne directly situated against the wall, dressed in a blue jacket, blue leather pants, and on his feet a pair of black leather shoes with buckles. He had one leg crossed over the other, and he was leaning on one of the armrests, propping up his head. An arrogant smirk twisted his pale, almost white face. His wicked red eyes perused Atem from head to foot, and the expression on his face seemed almost downright jaunty between jagged shining golden locks of familiar-looking bangs.

Atem regarded him warily. "Who are you?"

The man chuckled heartily for such a cold looking persona. "You truly don't recognize your own face? I can't say I'm not hurt. I'm you, of course."

"Me? But I never looked like that! I mean you! I mean… Ah!" He paused, recanted, "Well, at least when I was myself." He shook his head, completely mystified. "No, how could that be? There can't be _two_ of me at the same time!"

"You would be correct. I'm not really you. I'm the _memory_ of you. This is what you looked like when you were just a spirit who lived within the Puzzle. But, that's only the beginning." He uncrossed the leg, stood, and descended the stair to his throne with more regal carry than Atem could remember himself ever having. He felt microscopic under that gaze. He forced himself not to back away when the other stood close to him. Seeming amused by Atem's lack of retreat, he folded his arms, a serenely pleased expression on his face. "How interesting," he remarked impressively, "you came in here even though you're afraid of what you might find."

"Fear is the first step to courage." Atem heard himself reply confidently, matching smirk for smirk with his Other. "You cannot know one without the other."

His Other chuckled. "Very true." He smiled then, gently, softly. "I am so glad you've come back. You have no idea how much it hurt when you left this world without me. I don't know if you intended to do it, but I know you crossed over less of a man than you were when you dwelt on this earth." He reached out suddenly then and seized Atem into a fierce embrace. "Accept me," he whispered passionately, "for when you do leave this place again for the Land of the West, only then you may be truly whole."

Overcome by the emotions bleeding over from the Other, Atem clung helplessly to the memory. "I shall never _be_ whole," he murmured sadly. "I am only half a soul in this mortal shell of mine."

"But you _know_ where to find the other half, do you not?" the Other whispered close to his ear, as both of them blurred, converged, and became one. "If you are the darkness," he echoed, "then he is the light. Remember?"

When Atem opened his eyes again, he was back in the small room inside the museum. Malik hovered nearby, waiting, anxious. A slow, sure smile began to stretch across his face. He set the Puzzle down and turned to his friend.

"I remember."

Confused by the statement, Malik blinked. "Remember what?" He was taken aback when Atem began to laugh, and yelped in alarm when Atem abruptly swept his friend up into a bear hug. "Hey, hey, watch it, no bouncing! Stop!" He pushed Atem off him, looking at him charily, guardedly. "Are you okay? You were really quiet for a while there."

"I'm fine, I'm _wonderful_!" Atem felt warm and glowing and happier than he'd ever felt. "Malik… Malik, I remember everything! I do! I… I remember Duelist Kingdom, (dear god that Pegasus character was a strange fellow!) and I remember, oh wow, I remember Battle City! And the pier! I remember Jounouchi, and I remember Kaiba's blimp, and Kaiba, ugh, horrible man! and I remember the God Cards, and… and..." Atem was having a hard time containing himself. "I remember other things too, like Death-T, and… and the green light." Here he lost steam, hot guilt burning him from the inside out like a fire-brand. "I shouldn't have played the Orichalcos, I should have _never_…" He shook his head to remove the thought, realizing it was a memory that was painful, yes, but that it had been dealt with and moved beyond. Something else had displaced it. "I remember searching for my memories. I found them, and then…" His face cleared of expression, as something hit him, his last memory before a bright light blanked out the rest of his thoughts.

"_I'm gonna miss you!_"

"_You do realize we'll never truly be apart right?_"

"_Huh?"_

"_The gift of kindness you've given me and the courage I've given you will remain with us, and that will forever bind us together._"

"_Well Pharaoh...good bye."*_

"Aibou…" Atem felt the strength leave his legs and he leaned forward on the table in front of him so that he wouldn't wind up sprawled on the floor. "I left Yuugi… and the others," he said quietly. "I went on to the afterlife. I was truly gone, wasn't I?"

Malik nodded solemnly. "You were. Until Sarah."

Atem lowered his head, silently acknowledging his words. _Until Sarah_. "This shouldn't have happened," he whispered between his braced arms, "I shouldn't _be_ here."

"Maybe." Atem glanced up at him. "But clearly you were meant to do more. You've been given a second chance, Atem. Not many people get those after what you've been through."

Atem was touched by his newfound brother's words. "Thank you. I… I cannot begin to express how grateful I am to you, your brother, and your sister. It is more loyalty than I feel I have any right to."

"Hey!" Malik smacked him in the shoulder, hard. "None of that crap now. Guys like you who save the world from evil only come along once every 3000 years. You've earned every friend you've got in this world." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Are we done?"

Atem smiled fondly down at the Puzzle. "Yes. Yes, I think we are."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Per'aa _is the Egyptian word for pharaoh, which means "Great House." Most of my information on ancient Egypt, unless otherwise indicated, comes from www . touregypt . com. The site is a vast wealth of information on Egypt. I highly recommend it._  
**Disclaimer: **_The italicized dialogue Atem recalls at * comes directly from_ Yu-Gi-Oh! _Episode 224 and is from the English dub script, as I understand more fans are familiar with it. I make no claim to authorship of these words._


	13. Make the Best of What Is Given You

"**Make the Best of What Is Given You"**

They returned home to the small village outside of Cairo with unexpectedly little pomp or fanfare. Isis was there to welcome them home when the battered old Ford Fiesta ambled around the dusty track and parked in its usual spot behind the old house. Isis was surprised that when the driver's side opened that it was Atem, and not Malik, who emerged. Automatically Isis checked on Malik, to make sure he hadn't been traumatized. Another mild bolt from the blue: Malik seemed just fine. In fact, he appeared rather incredibly pleased, wearing an unusually wide, ear-to-ear grin. She didn't have long to wait… for when Atem approached close enough for her to see the expression on his face, she knew. Wordlessly acknowledging this, and making a mental note to give her little brother a suitable tongue lashing (as he had neglected to call her back after obtaining permission to access the Puzzle), Isis met him halfway between the car and the house. Malik quietly went by them, giving his sister a significant nod, before heading inside. Isis barely glanced at him, her attention all for the man standing so regally silent before her. His arms were folded over his chest in that haughty manner of his, his rigid gaze as piercing as she could ever remember seeing it.

"It was the Puzzle," she barely murmured above the warm winds that caressed their necks and their hair. She raised her blue eyes to him when he didn't answer. Feeling like he was waiting for her to speak again, she did. "I am so very sorry," she whispered, lowering her head so she wouldn't have to see his face. "I thought it was best not to tell you. I – _We_ – wanted you to remember on your own."

The tangential sounds of the village made the silence that met that statement seem obscene in the calm arid wasteland surrounding them. Isis shivered, despite the temperature being well over one hundred degrees. A growing sense of unease permeated the atmosphere surrounding them. Isis began to fill with dread the longer Atem chose not to speak.

Then… "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that my memories of my time as a spirit were within the Puzzle?"

"No." Isis relaxed minutely. "It's as much of a surprise to me as it was to Malik. I thought the Items useless after their powers were used up, and so we gave no further thought to them." Isis lifted her head once more, braving his ire, resolute. "What made you think of the Puzzle?"

Atem scratched the back of his neck, a bit sheepish. "It was just a guess."

Isis's eyebrows rose on her face in a gentle arch. _Just a guess?_ It was a lot of walking on eggshells to have done what they had just done for a mere guess. Many greater risks have been wagered on less, she reminded herself. After all, there were no guarantees any of their efforts at recovering the Pharaoh's memory of his ancient past would have worked the way they did, or at all even. Even so, she only nodded her head once, bowing forward until Atem said: "Stop."

Isis looked up. Atem drew close to her, placed both hands on her shoulders, which forced her to straighten her posture. He looked into her face closely. "I am not your king, Isis," he admonished softly. "Please. I was a god in my world; here in this one, I am just Atem, a mortal who needs no man or woman to kiss the earth at my feet." Using her shoulders, he guided her to him, and embraced her warmly, much to her wide-eyed surprise. "I thank you for your loyalty," he murmured. "I do not think any pharaoh could have asked for more devoted descendants."

* * *

Two days had passed since Atem and Malik's memorable trip to the museum. Oddly Atem, though he claimed to remember everything, wasn't asking any questions about his friends, or Yuugi. Instead he asked to borrow Malik's lap top, and thus began to spend many hours at the kitchen table, often with a can of Diet Coke nearby, which he would occasionally sip from. One day, over folded hands supporting his chin, elbows on the table, he looked up at where Isis was sitting across from him as she quietly transcribed from a scroll in her lap to a notebook lying before her. A CD player, with its volume turned down low, was playing Dido's "Hunter" in the background.

"Would you prefer to use the computer? I am sure your work would go much faster."

Isis smiled without glancing up from the papers before her. "Thank you, but no. I always type everything up later after I finish the translations."

"Why do you do that? I have meant to ask you many times."

"For the revenue it generates for our family." Isis liked the way he smiled when she said 'our.' "The museum and I might have a love-hate relationship, but it has been very good to us financially. Egypt's authorities view the Ishtars as a commodity and a national treasure."

Atem tilted his head, more interested than angered by the implication. "They are exploiting you?"

"No." Isis allowed a rare smirk to turn up the corners of her mouth, her comely features acquiring an almost devious countenance. "We volunteer, we cooperate where we can, and protest where appropriate. We may not be able to stop them from doing what _they_ want but they most certainly can never make _us_ do what they want. Our contract is terminable by us any time, and they understand that very well."

"Why did you not terminate it when they were digging into my tomb?"

Isis closed her eyes briefly, though she sensed no resentment in the question. "I had thought about it… but then I met Dr. Chanson. She reminded me so much of Mutou Sugoroku: she has a great love and a passion for Egyptology. It was because of her we were able to oversee the dig. We couldn't stop them from plundering your tomb but it was because of her we were able to make sure your remains and your treasures were treated with respect." Isis's hand stopped moving over the paper, and she reached out to touch Atem's arm. "Now that you are back with us, I feel… I am glad we couldn't stop it. I am glad that all of this has happened, no matter what may yet occur in the future."

Atem smiled and touched her arm back. "Me too. In so many ways, you have no idea how happy I am that I can be sitting here at the table in this small village with you."

Isis took her hand away, coolly smiling. "You are a smooth operator, Atem."

Atem feigned innocence. "It does not mean what I just said isn't true."

"Mm-hmm."

Atem pressed his forehead into his palm and shook his head. "I should have never told you about my love for women." Suddenly Atem leaned devilishly over the table and waggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. "Come off it, Isis, you know you want me." Isis dropped her pen, completely shocked, and watched as the former god king sat back in his chair and laughed. Recovering quickly, Isis vowed to kill Malik for allowing Atem to watch his entire DVD collection of classic American cinema.

Isis lifted her chin, poised and graceful as ever. "I suppose you mean to follow that up with 'Here's looking at you kid'?" she commented primly.

Atem's eyes widened. "Oh I have not yet thought of that! What movie is that one from? It has Rhett Bulter in it, yes?"

"No, you're thinking of _Gone With the Wind_. That line is from the Humphrey Bogart film, _Casablanca_."

"Ca-sa-blan-ca. I like that. It is French?"

"Yes. It's a place in France."

"I would like to visit this France." Atem kind of gazed off into space. "Perhaps I may yet." Letting his gaze return to the lap top's monitor, he reached for the mouse and clicked on something. He seemed drawn into what he was looking at on the screen, and then a slow smile began to spread across his face. His eyes were soft as he lifted a hand and let his fingertips ghost upon the image in front of him. Gradually he lowered his hand, averting his eyes away, blinking back moisture, before clicking away off whatever he had been looking so fondly at. It was a long time before Atem finally asked the question she had been waiting for him to ask since he stepped out of the car.

"How long."

Isis lowered her eyes. "Four years. It has been four years since you were gone."

Atem took a deep breath and nodded, having seemed prepared for this blow. "How… are they? Are they all right?"

"Yuugi is the only one we hear from, and even then, only rarely."

He appeared to swallow. "Is he…? He is all right?"

Isis took a deep breath, weighing her delivery with care. "He's doing as well as anyone can be doing in his situation. He took over the game shop after he graduated from high school and turned in a fair profit due to his popularity in the game industry. He's been in and out of college, according to Malik, the silly child can't seem to pick something and stick with it. He also beta tests games for Kaiba Corp., and I heard he does very well with that." Now here was the real blow, and Isis was not looking forward to dealing it. "His grandfather died about a year ago after a short illness. He went very quickly and quietly. Then Yuugi went through a difficult break up with a girlfriend he had been seeing for some time. I cannot imagine what that has done to him." Isis sighed, remembering the anguish on Malik's face when he'd told her of it. "The tone of his last letter worried me so much, I asked him to come out here to stay with us. That was over six months ago, and he hasn't spoken to me since. I think he didn't want to hurt my feelings by saying no so he said nothing at all." She had to stop, because her heart had grown heavy. It truly hurt not being able to help the young man and hashing it out here brought all the sadness to the surface again.

Atem too appeared to absorb this with much difficulty; she could see the pain resonating in his whole face and body. She knew he had hoped to hear that Yuugi was happy and whole, not someone who might be personally successful, but seemed to have much stacked against him in terms of personal happiness. Finally, barely able to speak, he spoke again, quietly. "Jounouchi?"

There was an easier breath to take. "Jounouchi has become a professional duelist and goes around the world competing in various tournaments. He shares an apartment with Honda, who is paramedic with Domino General. I don't know much else about their situations. I heard Shizuka just graduated high school."

"Anzu?"

"She lives in a studio apartment in New York City where she has been studying dance at the local university."

Atem inhaled sharply, paling, realizing something. "Anzu… Oh by the gods, she's the one Sarah is living with! I… I have even spoken with her to leave messages for Sarah! Of course, at the time I did not know it, but…!" He sat back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "I cannot believe she did not recognize me, but why should she? I am dead as far as she knows. Sarah does not speak to her about me." He caught Isis's questioning look. "Sarah is a very private person," he explained. "She does not want anyone to know…" Atem shifted uneasily in his chair. "May I have your confidence?" he muttered.

Slowly, Isis nodded, riveted by his shy behavior. Was that a blush starting on his face?

Atem folded his fingers together over the table, studying them for several moments, before he felt able to raise his chin and speak forthrightly. "As you know, we have been speaking frequently. I wish to apologize for running up your telephone bill. I am afraid when it comes to my stronger feelings they leave very little room for the consideration of others." She said nothing, for that had been true on a few unfortunate occasions in the past. Appearing to brace himself, Atem finally blurted: "Sarah does not want anyone to know that she is speaking with me, not because I'm a pharaoh she brought back from the dead, but because I am ten years younger than she is. She says she does not want to be thought of as a cougar." Atem shook his head, bewildered. "I know not why anyone would think her a cat. She reminds me more of a dragon, if we must compare humans to animals. Why do you laugh?"

Isis shook her head, keeping her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. Finally she was able to get hold of herself enough to speak clearly. "What she means when she calls herself a cougar is because that is the American slang term for an older woman dating a younger man."

Atem was astonished. "Younger? I am 3024 years older than she is! If anything, _I_ am the one who is much too old for _her_." Catching himself in the slip, he shut his mouth and slumped in his chair. "I suppose the rest of what I wish to confide is obvious now."

"It is." Isis was pleasantly amused. "I admit I had not expected this."

"Nor I," Atem smiled almost tenderly, to himself, "and I most of all should have seen this coming. I have a weak heart. I have always preferred and enjoyed the company of older women." He heaved a great sigh, shaking his head. "Is it possible to develop feelings for another without being able to speak in person?"

"I would think so, otherwise I think Internet dating would not be as popular as it has become." Isis sensed Atem wanted to say something else, and took the pick of things. "You may as well tell me about the other thing that is also weighing on your mind."

Wryly, Atem cocked one eye at her, smirking. "You are much too perceptive for your own good, Isis."

Isis merely responded with a light shrug. Waited.

"Will you not judge me?" he said after a long pause.

"No. I have never judged you. It has never been my place, nor ought it to be anyone else's. Ma'at will be your only judgment."

Atem smiled at her, genuinely. "I think we are the only ones who believe in our gods anymore." She nodded and continued to wait for him to speak. "I do not wish to contact anyone," he began softly, to the table top. "My time in their lives has ended. I care too much for them to interfere where I know I do not belong." Suddenly he looked up at Isis. "But…" he added desperately. "I am not sure I am strong enough to stay away from Yuugi. He is my other half and I…I have very strong feelings for him. I know that I must, though. To hear that he is so unhappy…" Atem closed his eyes to hold back the line of tears Isis knew he was fighting, as he struggled to maintain his composure. "You do not know what it is taking for me to remain where I am sitting right now."

Isis bit her lower lip, aching for the man sitting across from her. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Atem clenched his jaw, his mouth a grim line. "I cannot interfere with his life. He has stood on his own without me, and I know he will continue to do so. He is stronger than I ever will be." Deep breath. "I-I am not what I was to him anymore. I am no longer that protective spirit with magical powers who lashed out at the evils that threatened to hurt my partner." Atem's voice had grown thick and heavy, breaking. "The only thing I truly wanted to give him was not something he had ever needed from me."

"Atem…" Isis reached across the table, slid the lap top aside and closed it. Then she picked up Atem's limp hands and enfolded them in her own securely, squeezing them. "You never told him?"

"No. I… I kept it from him. It's the only thing I ever kept from him."

"Why?"

Atem gazed at her with a sad smile. "I was a dead man, Isis, and he was only just on the cusp of manhood. I could not taint that with my inappropriate longings for more than what I could give, and for more than what he could return." He drew himself up straight in his chair and gently detangled their fingers. "I knew that he had not held those feelings for me so there was no point – as there is no point now." When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head dismissively. "However…" He seemed hesitant. "You _will_ let me know if he contacts you?"

"Of course." Still she had to try one more time. "Are you sure?"

Atem pushed away from the table and stood. "_Yes._" He visibly wavered and then looked around the kitchen, clearly searching for something. "I am sorry but I need to… Please?"

Isis reached into her dress pocket, plucked out her phone, and placed it in his hand, gesturing with her head to the window which was dark with evening. "Remember," wink, "free nights and weekends."

He smiled gratefully, flipped open the phone, and left the room, already dialing the archeologist's number.

Isis shook her head and picked up her pen again. She was going to have to ask Rishid to stop by the electronics shop when he went for groceries tomorrow. It was time to buy another mobile phone.


	14. Dinner and Duel Monsters

"**Dinner and Duel Monsters"**

"You know, you're going to kill yourself if you keep working like this."

Sarah lifted her hand from over her eyes and shifted her head slightly to peer up at the woman standing over her. "And you're bringing my attention to this because…?"

Anzu exhaled and shook her head, and turned around to head over to the kitchen area. "Hey, far be it for _me_ to tell you what to do…" she said, speaking up so Sarah could hear her from where she lay spread out on the couch. "I don't know, maybe it's because I care?" Sarah heard banging and the sounds of cupboards being opened and shut. "I'd hate to see you collapse from exhaustion and regret not having said something to you about it."

Sarah sat halfway up. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner. Hungry? I've got enough to make two servings of this."

Sarah adjusted herself so that she was leaning over the top of the couch, arms folded under her chin. "It's not Japanese food is it?"

"Nope! It's plain old boring old American cuisine." But Anzu was smiling. "Don't worry I'm fully aware of your delicate palette."

Sarah made a face. "Thanks," she muttered drolly. Shifting gears, she changed the subject. "So how did that audition go yesterday?"

Anzu groaned.

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea." Anzu studied the ingredients on the back of the box and shook her head at what she read there. "So how's life in the annals of archeology?"

"You're not even going to tell me what happened?"

"What's to tell? I didn't get the role." Anzu shrugged and opened the box, dumping its contents into the pot she had placed on the stove. "This says you can add meat to it. I've got beef and chicken here."

"Chicken." Sarah pressed on. "I don't understand. You're a great dancer!"

"Not according to most of the dancing industry." Anzu sounded glum. "You're a professor of rocks, bones, and dusty old mummies. You don't know how much I really suck."

Sarah waved the implied snub off, knowing Anzu was only dissing herself because she was upset. "I'm sure that's a load of crap." She got off the couch and entered the kitchen, looking at everything Anzu had dragged out to prepare their supper. Good lord, what was the woman making, Thanksgiving dinner? Cooking as therapy, her mind whispered. Don't comment on it. "Want some help?"

"You can put the carrots in the microwave." Sarah moved to do so. "So have you heard from what's-his-name lately?"

Sarah pulled herself up onto the island counter and comfortably watched Anzu move around the kitchen area. She wouldn't help anymore unless asked; Anzu was _very_ particular about doing things on her own. "Who? There are a lot of men in my life who could fit that description." Anzu turned around, one hand on a hip, a large cooking spoon in the other, and gave Sarah a knowing Look. "Oh _him_. Why?"

Anzu grinned.

_Oh for pity's sake! _Sarah blushed and averted her eyes. "I've told you many times, it's not what you think."

"Then why do you call him so much?" her friend replied teasingly, pointing at her with the spoon to drive home the point.

_Because for what you think it is, _is_ what you think it is, only I'm not admitting to it because far as I know it's no one else's damn business!_ "He's my friend," she deliberately articulated each word. "We have a lot in common and it's been nice to be able to talk to someone who doesn't want anything from me other than the pleasure of good conversation."

Seeming more or less satisfied with this answer, Anzu went back to stirring the simmering contents of the pot. "You like him."

"I do."

"So… is he handsome?"

It slipped out before she could stop it. "Oh god yes." Sarah clapped her fingers over her mouth, pretending she didn't see the sly little smirk sneak across Anzu's face. "I mean, yes," she redirected hastily, "he is attractive."

Anzu didn't, or pretended not to, notice. "How old is he?"

Sarah sighed, head dropping forward heavily. She could see where her roommate was going with this. "Anzu, come on, you know I don't like talking about this stuff. Stop trying to make it into something it's not."

"Well, why not?" She didn't believe the childlike cadence for a second. "How long has it been since you've been with someone?"

This conversation was playing too close to the chest for comfort. Instinctively, Sarah closed her mouth, lips pressed together tightly. Too long, but she wasn't about to start blathering on about _that_. She had never been much for the dating scene, much less in the habit of _discussing_ it with anyone.

Blithely unaware of the breach of her roommate's comfort zone, Anzu continued along chattily. "Mandy told me you used to be married about five years ago."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_ Sarah blanched, face burning fire engine red before she was able to get it under control. Mandy was going to die a hideous, painful death. Still, an implied question required an implied answer. "Yes, I was, and it was a mistake," she replied shortly. "Pure impulsiveness. Never again." Never, never, never again times a thousand and one.

"Never marrying again or never marrying impulsively again?" Damn her!

"The second one." Tit for tat, Sarah decided this was a good time to spread some advice. "Just remember if you ever decide to get hitched: consider all of your financial and emotional options before jumping into the pool feet first. Marriage counseling was the best thing I never did. I cannot stress that enough."

Anzu made a face as she went to retrieve the carrots from the microwave after a cheerful ding. "I'll take your word for it. Not that I plan to get married any time soon. I've got a bank account to rebuild before I can even think about doing that." Sarah speedily cleared the counter beside where she was sitting so Anzu could set the covered dish down. "Thanks. Meanwhile I'll just cast my net out and see what I can snag."

"Good idea." Sarah viewed Anzu with some admiration. "I wish more young women were like you. I look at people your age today and I despair. Most of them act like kids given an extension on their high school years." Pregnant pause. "No offense."

"None taken." Anzu removed the glass lid to the casserole dish. A brief, light billow of steam puffed into the air. "It's not as if you're wrong. I mean, if I could just meet _one_ guy who didn't act like some immature high school dropout, I think I'd be set for life." She paused in the act of carrying over another dish to be cooked in the microwave. A slightly sad nostalgic smile curved her lips upwards. "Well," she amended softly, a gentle glow in her large, clear eyes, "there was this one guy. He was a king – well, he _acted_ like a king," she corrected herself hastily. "He was…" sigh, "…just the most amazing guy I'd ever known. I don't think there could have been anyone else like him in the whole world."

There was an abbreviation to this, hence the past tense usage. Sarah leaned forward, intrigued. "What happened?"

"He died."

She could almost hear the sound of the subject dropping, like a loud, mental _thunk_. The archeologist immediately lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"It's okay." Anzu turned off the stove, picked up a couple of pot holders, and used them to move the boiling pot over. "I mean, I'm the one who brought him up." Sarah noticed she never looked at her once. "It's been four years. It… was his time." With a gesture of finality, Anzu stood in the center of the tiny kitchen and gauged her situation – and the finished servings. "Okay, if you can just set the table that would be awesome."

Happy to have something to do, and glad to be getting away from the glum atmosphere, Sarah hopped off the counter and busily went about retrieving plates, forks and knives. She helped Anzu dish out the food into servings, poured them each a minute amount of scotch and soda from the fridge. At last, each woman settled in across from one another at the small table by the balcony that served as a tiny dining area. Quietly they ate their meals and sipped their drinks, each lost inside of her head for a few minutes. Sarah absently tilted her brandy glass to her lips, swirling the liquid around, and considered the Japanese woman thoughtfully.

"This guy… he's like a king too."

Anzu lifted her eyes, tucked some hair behind one ear absently, smiling as she took another bite of her food. Sarah stared down at her plate, unaware of the soft smile curling on her own lips. Suddenly a swift pain shot up her calf, and she yelped. Anzu had kicked her! "Ow!" She swore in Arabic. "What was that for?"

Unapologetically, Anzu twirled her fork, all pure guile and air-light false innocence. "You really should go see him," she urged. "Or invite him here. Do _something_. It's _been_ long enough. You have some free time coming up don't you? Why don't you use it to go visit him?"

_Don't tempt me_. Sarah stalled, grasping. "I'm… not sure I would be welcome. The family he lives with wasn't - _isn't_ - thrilled with my… involvement."

But of course Anzu saw through it for the lame excuse it was and waved it away like a pesky fly. "Oh now _that's_ just a load of crap. He likes you, doesn't he? By virtue of that fact, you are welcome by default. I've heard some of his answer messages. He's ended every one of them saying he wishes you would visit. I know _you've_ heard them." Sarah reddened, as indeed she had, regretting the audience that had been around when they played. Anzu winked devilishly. "By the way, I just want to say, _bravo_. He sounds _really_ sexy. If he's also as good looking as you say he is, you've got yourself a bargain."

Sarah couldn't decide whether to crawl under the table, kick Anzu back, and elected simply to chuckle amusedly instead. "You've got that right." Realizing what she'd just made her confess, she snapped her head up, mouth falling open in shock. Unsurprised, Anzu just laughed, and sipped at her drink. "You aren't the peach your name says you are."

"Does anyone act like the name they've been given? _Go see him_," she added insistently. "Look, I'll be okay here. Mandy's semester is ending soon and she's going to need a place to crash so rent isn't going to be a problem. Is your passport to Egypt still good?" Sarah nodded. "Then _go_. Even if it's just for a few days, come on, after all the stress you've been under, being out in the middle of a hot desert with a hot man will do you some good."

_When you put it that way…_ Sarah was seriously wavering in her convictions. It didn't help that the prospect of meeting that beautiful pharaoh again was an extremely pleasing one, not to mention returning to Cairo, one of her favorite cities in the world, was also tempting. _Well, it's like they say, good men aren't born, they're _made_ and you've 'made' yourself a damn good one._ _Carpe diem! Still… Time to hem and haw for form's sake!_ "I'll think about it." She tapped the table top with her fingertips as something occurred to her. "Question: Do you know where they might sell Duel Monster cards in this city?"

Caught off guard by the query, Anzu gave a start, blinking. "Uh, yeah. Why?" Crafty smirk, "Aren't you a little old to be playing a children's card game?"

"Oh shut up. It's for the guy. He likes that stuff and I figured since he was so good to return Mandy's cross, I might as well thank him with a gift."

Pursing her lips, Anzu sat back and gave it some thought. "Well," she spoke at last, "when I want to enhance my deck, I usually go to the Black Crown on the corner. It's next to the flower shop? The one with the sign with the giant rose on it?" Sarah assented. "Right next door to it, you can't miss it. I know the owner of the franchise, so I always get a good discount." She nodded, affirmed. "Definitely try there. I'll go with you if you decide to go so you can get the discount too, if you'd like."

Sarah's smooth brow creased. "They're that expensive?"

"No." Grin. "But it helps when you want to buy large quantities. I used to do it for Yuugi all the time." She seemed a little sad when she said the last part, and Sarah leaned forward in askance. She didn't know that much about Anzu's friends other than knowing that the young man was her best friend. "Yuugi's not doing so well. I've been trying to pony up some money to go home and visit him, but he keeps insisting that he's fine and not to go through the trouble. He's a stubborn little guy," she added affectionately. Her face quickly crumpled. "It… kills me that I can't help him. Jounouchi, my other friend, said he's being like that with everyone. Told me Yuugi needed to work out his problems alone. 'It's a guy thing.' I'm not sure I agree with him, but…" Anzu bit her lip, and gave a resolute nod. "I'm going to go back on my winter break regardless. He needs his friends, whether he thinks he does or not."

Sarah agreed wholeheartedly. Once she too had done what Yuugi had done when she'd gotten divorced. She'd clammed up, stopped taking calls, stopped _making_ calls, and wound up losing some of the closest, dearest friends to her. By the time she'd come around to reconciling with her mistake - and them - those friends had gone beyond her reach. It's why she now hung on to the friendships of anyone who offered theirs to her. Mandy, Anzu and Atem might just be kids in her eyes but they were real friends and she was loath to push them away for any reason. _Well, maybe not Atem_, she thought with a faint transient blush. _After all, it's hard to keep calling him a kid, and then keep thinking of him in less than innocent ways._ Her libido screamed _He's a _man_, go for it, who cares_! And the common sense voice in her head that was in danger of losing ground told her to keep her head about her. This was a former pharaoh brought back from the dead by magic – real honest to Re _magic_! The situation couldn't have had caution written all of it more than it could have been wrapped up in yellow police tape with a DO NOT CROSS stamped on it. Deep down, though, she knew how she felt. She was on the fast track down hill with no brakes to stop it. And she wasn't sure she wanted to stop either.

After they'd reached the end of their meal and cleaned up, Sarah checked her wristwatch, and deigned it time to hole up behind her desk top in the corner, her "office," and begin an evening of keyboard tap dancing and mouse clicking. Consulting through e-mails and video conferencing half a world away did not for an easy career maker, yet these were the things a famous Egyptologist did to make ends meet (it wasn't all about just digging into dark, dusty holes in the ground, unfortunately). She was in sore need of sleep but at least she was losing it in the name of love. Since college she considered herself married to her career, _ba_ and _ka_, and she was committed to it wholeheartedly.

Until about three e-mails, two Internet meetings later when the mobile phone started crooning the super sappy "Angel of Darkness" ringtone Mandy had programmed into it. Exhaling, she picked it up and checked the caller ID – and work was promptly forgotten. A smile began to grow on her face. "Well, I'll be damned." Answering, she sat back in the creaky office chair, while throwing a shoe in Anzu's direction when she heard the younger woman laugh from across the apartment. The stupid one room studio was easy on the rent but non existent in the privacy department. It was leading Sarah to believe apartments were priced by the wall. Spinning around so she wouldn't be distracted by the contents of her work staring back at her from the computer screen, Sarah eagerly dove into the conversation.

"Hello, Sears, this is the Lingerie Department, how may I help you?" Sarah deliberately ignored the slightly choking noises Anzu was making over from where she was sitting on the couch, doing whatever she was doing. Probably studying, she remembered her saying something about a test earlier.

Meanwhile she enjoyed the sound of Atem's soft, almost musical rumble on the other end of the line. He needed to do that more often; she could listen to his laughter for days. "Hello Sarah," he ended a smile in his voice. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

"Glad I could help." Sarah spun slowly back to the computer and made at face at the stonily silent screen which now seemed to be glaring at her jealousy. Her work never did like competition. "You all right?"

"I am. I have… been going through many things as of late." Sigh. Sarah sat up, growing concerned, hearing something deeper within this simple letting out of breath. "I am uncertain of my place, my purpose." Atem seemed to go smaller, and further away. "How does one go from being everything to… to almost nothing? What can be made of that? What can you call it?"

Existential dilemmas weren't her strong suite, but she decided to give it a go for his sake, the poor dear. Sarah wetted her lips and closed her eyes, focusing on his voice, his words. "A clean slate," she declared after a minute. "Think about what you know you can do and find a way to turn it into something that you love. There are so many choices in this world you just have to let yourself see them, be open to them. Most importantly, you have to _want_ it."

"What if what I want is something I can't have?" Sarah felt her heart squeeze. _I wish he would just come out and tell me, _she cried within. _There's so much he's not telling me._ Of course, it wasn't easy to coax answers out when the other person was an ocean away!

"How do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"I mean," he spoke carefully and deliberately, "if what my heart wants is wrong?"

"BS."

"Pardon?"

"There is never anything wrong with a heart wanting what it wants," Sarah explained gently. "It's human nature. The real issue here is do you possess the strength and the will to keep a level head about it? Desire is a good thing, but in some cases, it's better if tempered with logic. It's not enough just to say you want it, you have to know if it's something you can have. But to believe that it's _wrong_ for you to want it? No."

Atem seemed to absorb this, not speaking for several minutes. "What you say is true," he finally said at length. "I believe the path I am taking to be right. It just… has been hard for me to accept."

Sarah threw back her head over the back of the chair, closing her eyes. "God, I can relate to that," she murmured under her breath. Then she smiled. "Your English has improved, I noticed."

"Thank you." She could swear she could _hear_ him beaming. "Malik has been a very good teacher. Speaking with you has been a great aid in my learning the proper accents for some of your words."

Sarah chuckled. "I've always wanted to double my career as a Speak 'N' Spell."

"Speak 'N' Spell?"

"An electronic toy that helped kids learn how to spell and say words a long time ago. Don't know if they still sell them. Hey, oh wait, have you seen the movie _E.T._?" The alien in the movie had used a Speak 'N' Spell to learn how to talk (before it wound up becoming part of a slapped together interstellar communication device made out of household items).

"No. But perhaps that is a film we should watch together, yes?" Good lord, now she was thinking she could hear him _wink_ too. How did that man manage to express so much with his voice? Or was it because she was so infatuated by him she was hearing only what she wanted to in his vocal nuances?

"You, Mr. Pharaoh, are a very bad man." Sarah ignored the clattering sound of a heavy object falling and just assumed Anzu had dropped her textbook.

"I assure you, my intentions are purely benign."

"And I'm the Virgin Mary. In three thousand years, men have not changed much. I wouldn't expect you to be any different."

"You wound me."

"Fake pouting gets you nowhere, buddy." _And everywhere_. Her response managed to elicit another one of his rumbling laughs, and she quietly thrilled at it.

"Then what must I do to convince you?"

"Convince me of what?" Sarah was enjoying this. Atem was getting better at picking up the banter. He wasn't dissecting and misunderstanding every other sentence she spoke, which was a big improvement. Having to _explain_ one's flirty innuendos was almost more embarrassing than the person missing the cue entirely.

"I think you know."

Oh yes, he was getting good at it, far too good. But so could she. "Maybe," she said in a light sing-song.

There was a light intake of breath. "What did you say?" he whispered, hushed.

"I said, 'maybe.'"

"So we have gone from 'no' to 'maybe'?" He sounded absolutely delighted!

"Hey, don't get your crook and flail confused with one another, it doesn't mean yes."

He didn't seem fazed. "It is an improvement." Chuckle. "I take my victories where I can."

"You'd probably take them even if you couldn't."

He laughed. "Very true." There was a short, thoughtful pause. "Do you mean what you said about possibly coming here, or were you just teasing me?"

Sarah leaned forward on the desk, elbows propping her head up. "I meant what I said. I'm taking some time off soon and I haven't yet decided how to spend it."

Predictably, Atem seized on that. "Come to Egypt. You will be welcome here. I will _make_ you welcome here. Isis, Malik and Rishid have agreed not to chase you off as long as I want you here." Pharaoh Atem, god king of the ancient Land of Kemet, and one home in modern Cairo. _Watch out world._

"Why doesn't that make me feel all warm and gushy inside?"

Atem sighed, exasperated. "If I were to have Isis speak directly with you, would it put your mind at ease?"

Sarah sat back. "No. Not now, anyway. I'll call her myself. I want to make sure she can be honest with me without you sitting right there. I just need to be sure she won't be speaking under possible duress."

The former pharaoh chuckled. "_Duress_? Dr. Chanson, she is not my prisoner." There were some sounds in the background, as if someone were speaking. "I shall have to contact you tomorrow. Rishid needs my assistance."

"All right. I have some work I need to finish up here anyway."

"You will continue to work on turning that 'maybe' into a 'yes'?" he added hopefully.

Sarah smiled, flattered at his insistence. It was really sort of cute. "I assure you, you will have a definite answer soon. Good bye. Be safe."

"You as well, Sarah. Good bye."

Sarah hung up and then tossed the phone on the desk top, before stretching her arms over her head sky-high, grinning with pleasure at the sensations spreading throughout her body. It was looking more and more like Cairo was going to be making itself a destination on her future itinerary. Would it really be so terrible? Wasn't it about time she got back on the horse? When she looked up, she noticed Anzu standing close by, leveling a peculiarly severe stare at her. "What is it?" she asked, filling with concern.

"You said to me before his name was Atem."

"Yes."

Anzu closed her eyes for a moment, seeming to wage an inner tussle. "You called him 'Mr. Pharaoh.'"

"I did." Sarah frowned at her roommate's strange intensity. What was she getting at? "Why?"

"Why did you call him that?" she persisted, ignoring Sarah's question.

"Because he acts like one; he certainly talks like he's royalty. I told you he was like a king." Sarah laughed to cover up her anxiety, realizing how close to the line she was walking. Getting up from her chair, Sarah shut down her work, and the computer. "You know what I forgot to pick up something on my way home today. I think I will do that now." Putting on the biggest, brightest, fakest smile she could muster, Sarah breezily grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "I've got my key on me so you can lock up if you want. I might be out for a while."

Then she was out of the door fast, desperate not to allow Anzu to get another question in. She hadn't the foggiest idea of what Anzu was suspecting but she knew her questions were leading toward the truth. Sarah was terrified if she were questioned with any more scrutiny, she might accidentally reveal who and what Atem really was. There were too many people she would be putting in danger if the truth got out. Bad enough there were _five_ people in on this little conspiracy of hiding a resurrected pharaoh, there didn't need to be a _sixth_ recruit. Yes, Anzu was probably suspecting she was hiding _something_ there was no avoiding that one. It was better for her to merely have suspicions than to know for sure. After all, this kind of thing could wind up ending her career!

It did… but not in the way she expected.


	15. Beta Testing and Heartache

"**Beta Testing and Heartache"**

Mutou Yuugi ran a hand wearily down his face and stifled the urge to groan aloud. What he was being paid to do this did not amount to it being worth so much of knocking skulls together, Yuugi didn't know what else to do to figuratively crack the whip. There were some days – no, he corrected himself, _most_ days - he wished he could turn back the clock to the moment he'd said yes to taking this position and change it to a no. All the vague horror stories he'd heard about corporations and their little 'games' of guile had proven themselves to be true on the grandest of scales. Unfortunately for them, Yuugi had never been one to play on politics, much less excel at them, so he decided to go for plain old straight talk. At least when _he_ was speaking, he was able to comprehend the words that came out of _his_ mouth. Unlike what was going on now, at this very moment.

"I don't think you understand what I'm telling you," he explained to the Kaiba Corp. underling very carefully. "This, _this_ right here," he reached over the shoulder of the technician, "is wrong. The telemetry between this," he pointed to the top of the bright screen, "and this right here is off by more than one or two degrees. See it?"

The man narrowed his eyes and leaned into the monitor to get a better look. "I think so," he drawled skeptically. "But it's such a _minor_ flaw, Mutou. It barely registers on our electrical sensors. I'm pretty sure no one will be able to tell the difference in the pattern fluctuations unless they used a neutron microscope."

Sigh. _Why do I bother, really, good thing this isn't pro bono_. "Yes, I know it doesn't _look_ like a big difference to you," Yuugi replied very patiently, "but believe me there's only a few decimals difference between cooking the consumer's brain, and them just getting a minor static shock. I'd rather Kaiba Corp. process refunds for those who can't take a little static shock to compensating families for the thousands of dollars they'll be suing over the fried brains of their dead loved ones." Orated out, he turned his head, catching the (shell-shocked) man's eye. "Do any of these implications sound attractive to you?"

The overwhelmed Kaiba Corp. technician scratched the small bald spot on his graying head. "I… think I do." He shrugged then. "But you _are_ Kaiba's top beta, after all. Who'd know better than you?" He still sounded confused, shaking his head at the figures on the screen.

_Who'd _know_ better? _Yuugi ranted internally. _Anyone with half a heart and a healthy dose of compassion would _know_ better!_ Rather than speak the exasperated thought aloud, he took a step back, and exhaled, fighting back the yawn he so dearly wanted to release. "Just run the simulation tonight, please. It's been four hours and I have a shop to close and a cashier I need to let go home for the day so she shows up tomorrow." Of course, Yuugi was exaggerating a little, if only because of his haste at wanting to get home. His sole employee was a very capable, responsible young lady. He wouldn't trust his shop to just anyone, after all. Thankfully Shizuka was more than up to the challenge for her first summer job.

The tech nodded. "I understand, sir."

"Make sure if you plan on testing again, that there's someone else in the room with you. We can't let what happened in Lab B happen again."

The lab tech visibly stiffened all evidence of his earlier joviality gone. "Yes sir."

"Don't call me that," he murmured humbly, preoccupied. "I hate that."

"Call you what?"

"Sir. I'm not your real boss." Yuugi moved across the lab, picked up a folder, then sat down in a chair, to leaf through it. "I'm just the guy who comes in here once or twice a week and tells the rest of you guys what to do. I don't do any _real_ work." He found what he was looking for, removed a ball-point pen from his upper breast pocket, clicked the point up, and began making notations.

The tech, an elderly fellow Yuugi was forever forgetting the name of, spun around in his chair so that he was facing the young man. "I wouldn't say that. You actually _test_ the equipment personally. That's more than what most of the other inspectors who come in here do. They just bark orders, march around self-importantly, and then leave. But _you_ actually _care_ about the equipment being totally user safe and you don't give the okay until you're sure. I'd say that was 'real work.'"

The praise slid off easily as water to a duck's back. Yuugi tightened his lips together to fight back that yawn that desperately wanted out. "I have to care about that stuff, um, Koushi." The man nodded, and Yuugi was relieved he had remembered the man's name after all. "It's company regulations."

"You would be surprised at the slippery eels that manage to get through Kaiba's people filters."

Yes, Yuugi knew about them, regrettably. It still didn't prevent him from shaking his head unenthusiastically. "I know they do, and that's why I do this." Lowering his voice, he added, "Just between us, personally I'm not crazy about Kaiba Corp.; but if someone is going to entrust me with products meeting safety protocols, I'm _not_ going to take that, nor any other duty, lightly." Yuugi finished his notes, pressed the tip hard into the end of the paper to signal his decisiveness, before he closed the folder again, and handed it back to the tech. "Make sure Mokuba gets these before the end of the day, please, if you don't mind." Unable to fight it back any longer, his mouth opened, and the yawn finally escaped. His jaw audibly cracked in its zeal, and he was rubbing the small of his aching back as he headed for the laboratory door. Paused briefly upon the threshold, and tapped the frame for a few seconds. He looked back anxiously at Koushi. "You _will_ call me if…?"

The older man smiled, touched by Yuugi's (expectant) hyper-concern, and used to it in that old, long suffering affectionate way that the young man seemed to invoke about him. "Go home, Yuugi. Your work here _is_ done, I promise."

Yuugi hovered, unsure, his mind going a mile a minute, running down details and dissecting them, until the constant friendly, get-out-of-here-go motions of the tech finally convinced him to take off. He beamed awkwardly, said good bye, and headed out the door. He absently tugged on the bottom of his white button-down shirt that, as with all of his shirts, was one size too big for his short stature. Even though he'd long accepted he would never attain the height he often fantasized about, an abrupt growth spurt at age eighteen had left him only one head shorter than Jounouchi. At least he wasn't mistaken for an elementary schooler anymore.

_No, I'm just mistaken for a _high_ schooler now_, he griped, only because he was tired and sticky from the sweat of KC's faulty air conditioning. _I'm always one generation behind. _He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor, yawning again as it began its descent. His eyelids drooped heavily, and he allowed himself to take a moment to slouch against the elevator wall, and admit to his exhaustion. He lifted his arm and hiked back the sleeve to check the time. He blanched in reaction. Good lord, was it _only_ three in the afternoon? It felt much later than that. His bio clock was screaming for a mattress and a pillow, and it was barely even close to _dinner_ time.

A buoyant beep came from the mobile phone in his pants pocket. As the elevator doors opened, Yuugi pulled the device out and glanced at the screen. Hehe, another message from Jounouchi. _Probably wondering when I'm going to let his sister go for the day,_ he thought before he began to read. Jounouchi was never good at spelling so some of his words had to be guessed at.

HEY YUG, ITS ME. WEHN DOSE SHIZUKA GET OFF AGAIN?

Yuugi texted back. SOON. I WILL BE HOME IN 15 MIN. IF I'M NOT THERE WHEN YOU SHOW, JUST WAIT FOR ME. DON'T TAKE OFF THE STORE NEEDS TO STAY OPEN UNTIL I GET THERE TO CLOSE IT. He paused, sent it, and then added, and sent, SORRY.

Jounouchi responded immediately. HEY THIS IS ME HAVE I EVER LET YOU DOWN?

Yuugi smiled. No, he hadn't. YOU CAN OCCASIONALLY BE RATHER IMPATIENT.

I RESENT THAT. ;)

Yuugi laughed aloud and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He passed through the lobby, waving at the receptionist, who chirped after him a cheerful "Have a great evening!" until he reached the sidewalk outside. Once he stood in the blinding sunshine, he took a deep breath full of the richly humid air with relish, his eyes closing from the pleasant scents being carried on the faint breeze. He supposed it was to his credit Kaiba had allowed his landscapers to plant various gardens around the Kaiba Corp. building (to high light the company's 'green' status to the business and consumer world). The air always seemed to smell of something sweet, although not so much as to irritate his allergies. A rainstorm the previous evening had washed most of the pollen out of the air, which gave today Yuugi's first sneeze free day since the summer season began. Clear sinuses were always a mood improver and it even brought a little smile to his face. Taking another deep breath, he glanced around the parking lot, checking for traffic, and then headed toward his company car, a blue non-descript Jetta. He took out his keys, jangled them absently in his hand as he went.

Another beep happened after he'd just stepped into the vehicle and closed the driver's door. Smirking amusedly, he plucked it out again. The smirk faded instantly when he saw the name on the screen.

It wasn't Jounouchi.

Heart pounding, he bit his bottom lip, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and forced himself to read the message.

YUUGI, THIS MAY BE DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND, MAYBE YOU NEED HELP, BUT WHAT PART OF ABOUT US BEING BROKEN UP DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DON'T WANT TO BE A BITCH ABOUT THIS BUT YOU'VE LEFT ME NO CHOICE. I DON'T WANT TO BE FRIENDS! I COULD CARE LESS, SO STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME! GOOD BYE.

Feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut, Yuugi leaned forward against the steering wheel. Tears stung briefly at his eyes before they slipped out in hot itchy rivers down his cheeks. He took a long, shaky breath. Yuugi wanted to be angry. No one would blame him. Grandpa had passed away only a few weeks ago, and then to add to that, Aki decided she couldn't handle being in a relationship with a perpetually depressed boyfriend, and coldly dumped him one evening while they'd been curled together on the couch. She had tried to initiate sex, he didn't respond, and that's when Aki dropped her veneer of good-girl sweetness and turned into one of Mai's Harpies cards. At first he'd sat there in shock, unmoving, staring. He couldn't believe such a seemingly kind, sweet and soft-spoken girl could harbor such a poisonous serpent beneath those limpid eyes. Her impatience toward his mental and emotional pain completely shocked him; she treated his feelings as if he were grieving over the death of a _pet goldfish_ and not one of his most beloved _family members_! It saddened him, shamed him, and eventually sickened him to his stomach.

Intellectually, after he'd had a moment to take it all in, Yuugi understood that Aki hadn't known how to help him with his grief; and it was this inability to handle it was what had driven her away from him. He tried and tried but he just couldn't remember saying or doing anything bad enough to deserve what'd she put him through that night. Had he done something wrong, something really and truly wrong? If so, what was it? He could make up for it, at least he could _try_, if she would just _stop_ being on the offensive all the time. He could accept her not wanting to be with him anymore. Break-ups were a part of life. Even so, he couldn't accept her hating him like she did. It just didn't make _sense_.

Yuugi lifted his head and palmed away the tears, mortified for having shed them. Jounouchi and Honda (and Anzu from long-distance) had told him multiple times to "forget that bitch, she isn't what you deserve" yet he couldn't let go of it. He wanted, no, he _needed_, to know _why_. People who loved you didn't leave you. At least, they didn't leave without a good reason.

Yuugi glared straight ahead and seized the ignition, and turned it so hard the engine screeched in protest, before he released it again. He sucked in a hard breath, blew it out, and concentrated everything he had into making sure he reached home safely. The last thing he needed to do was get into an accident because his stupid ex-girlfriend had upset him _again_. Come what may, he _refused_ to risk his life over one moment of wretched misery. No amount of heartache was worth that. He moved his shoulders and instead focused on getting home alive. Somehow he made all the right turns, changed lanes safely, obeyed every traffic law, and pulled into the driveway in the back of the Kame Game shop without incident (the car gently brushed against one of the trash bins that had been placed a bit too closely to the curb). When he got out, his eyes were dry, and he was smiling again. By the time he rounded the building, he saw Jounouchi loitering around outside the shop door. After they had exchanged grins and knuckle knocks, he felt considerably lighter inside. One petty woman need not be the be all and end all of everything. He still had his best friend and other, far better, things to live for. His friends were right about that.

"Dude, you need to do something about your mom," was the greeting his stalwart companion threw him when he saw Yuugi coming.

Yuugi raised an eyebrow in askance as he pushed his way into the shop, his friend on his heels. "Do what about my mom?" he asked confusedly.

But Jounouchi only gave him a conspiratorial wink. "She needs to stop being so awesome. How come you never told me she makes the best cranberry cake in the world?"

Yuugi chuckled. Naturally, he thought, what else would have been this about? The topic of food and his friend were never very far apart. "Guess it just never crossed my mind. Did she try to stuff every possible food item in the house into you again?"

Jounouchi laughed, taking long stride across the shop to lean back on his elbows against the counter. "Right, like I could ever complain about _that_! But yeah, she did." Yuugi laughed too. "You must tell her that I never eat or something, man, I mean she sees me coming, and suddenly I'm sitting at your kitchen table with a bib, a fork in my hand, and wondering how I got there."

Shizuka, who was reading a magazine by the register, and wearing a yellow apron with a tiny turtle sewn into the upper left breast pocket, perked up. "Yuugi, hey!" she beamed, absently slapping her brother lightly on the arm. He took his elbows off the counter top without a word and straightened up. "You're earlier than you said you'd be."

"Mm! I know." Yuugi beamed. "Thankfully, the traffic was light today." He gave the entire shop a cursory examination, his eagle eye picking up every detail and difference instantly and methodically. He brightened and pointed at a corner, grinning again. "You finished selling off the clearance items! Wow! I've been trying to get rid of those Pokémon starter sets for months! How'd you do it?"

"Well, I don't know if I should tell you…" Shizuka came round the counter to lock the shop door and turn the sign to CLOSED, as she usually did when Yuugi came home at the appointed hour of the day. She turned back to the boys, one hand impishly cocked on her hip. She winked and giggled. "You know what they say about a bird in the hand being worth two in a bush."

Yuugi mock-narrowed his eyes at her for her cheek, and then went on to ask circumspectly, "Who bought them, Shizuka?"

"Honda," she replied innocently, leaning against the door, hands hidden behind her back. She seemed to enjoy the twin dropping of jaws from both employer and brother that met with that response, and the incredulous exchanging of glances.

The first to recover, Yuugi grumbled as he made his way past her. _Four years out of high school and he's _still_ buying crap for girls thinking they'll fall in love with him if he does_. "I hope that you told him that all of my clearance merchandise is nonreturnable."

"I did… _after_ he'd already forked over the money. Use suggestive sales tactics, you're always telling me, right? Well, I _suggested_ he buy them, and he did!" Shizuka began to giggle again, whilst Jounouchi was slapping one of his knees and having the time of his life. He knew that he was going to be giving the paramedic a hard time of it for days yet to come and forever in the hereafter. Yuugi just shook his head and his index finger at the girl as he moved around to the register to close it for the day.

"You're supposed to explain the return policy _as_ you're processing the sale, not _after_ it's already a done deal." _It's how the store remains intact and not burnt to the ground_, he silently added with an inner chortle.

But Shizuka simply lifted her chin and shrugged nonplused, all false innocence he didn't buy for a minute. "We don't _have_ a return policy, so what's to explain?"

He sighed. "Shizuka…"

The ginger haired girl smiled, stood up straight, and began pulling off the strings of her work-apron. "I understand what you're saying," she finally conceded. "I really _did_ explain the return policy to Honda but he just kept nodding his head eagerly and didn't seem to be listening to me at all." She touched the tip of her chin thoughtfully. "Really, someone needs to tell him he should be more careful about the way he spends his money. Pokémon cards at his age…" Shizuka trailed off, one eyebrow rising up, puzzled. "Why are you guys laughing now?"

But both older men merely shook their heads, trying to get themselves under control. After several more minutes of conversation and catching up of the day, Jounouchi indicated they needed to get going. Shizuka bowed appropriately to Yuugi, extending the unnecessary formality toward her boss regardless of the fact he'd told her several times they didn't have to maintain any employer/employee distinctions since they were friends first and foremost. Shizuka countered with how else was she ever going to learn how to practice for future would-be bosses whom she most likely _wouldn't_ have the same relationship with? Yuugi admitted she was right. After all, he himself had only worked for family all of his life. He wouldn't know about those types of distinctions well enough.

Yet. Kaiba Seto was teaching them to him so he was learning more and more each day. In point of fact, it was _better_ being Kaiba's employee rather than being his dubious friend and rival. At Kaiba Corp., he was spoken to and treated civilly with much more respect than Yuugi felt he deserved. None of Kaiba's usual belittling remarks were ever made at his expense, and what was even more astounding: the man genuinely seemed to _trust_ him. _As he ought to, since not a single one of my beta testing ventures and safety protocol product approvals have ever come back to haunt me._ Mokuba had taken to informing Yuugi that Kaiba didn't even _look_ at the final reports anymore; he simply wanted to have them on his desk to glance at and skim over to the bottom line at his convenience, before stowing them away.

At first, Yuugi had taken this knowledge the wrong way. "What do you mean he never really reads them?" he said despondently, genuinely hurt. "After all that I have to go through to make sure his products don't kill his clients and consumers, he doesn't even take the time to _read_ my reports?" Sadly underused and unfamiliar anger rose within, simmering just under the surface. "Is this just a sham job to make me think he actually cares about something other than himself?" he added forlornly.

Surprisingly, Mokuba's response to his heat had been to smile gently. "That's not it at all, Yuugi."

Yuugi sensed something in the boy's manner and gave pause, staring at him. "What do you mean?"

"Because," the teenager began, holding up a single digit, "I asked him the same questions." The black haired boy winked at his astonished reaction, kicked up, and brought his ankles off the edge of his desk back to the carpet. "What? You know I'm in your corner, Yuugi. I look out for my friends. Besides I wanted to know myself. Did you know what he told me?" Mokuba leaned forward conspiratorially, enmeshing his fingers together. The pleasure of what he was about to say was evident in his next words. "'Yuugi has all of the wrong dreams about everything and clings foolishly to those ridiculous ideals of his about friendship and the concept of equal treatment of all. However, _because_ of this misguided need of his to protect those he doesn't even know, I know that I can rely on him to do right by my company. He is an honest man and an honorable duelist. I would rather my rival watch my back than any of the closest friends I could ever have.'" At Yuugi's open-mouthed gawk of disbelief, Mokuba had added in a smiling whisper: "Don't tell him I said he said that or he'll never trust me with his secrets again. I just thought you had the right to know."

Yuugi had been privy to these sorts of sleight-of-hand tactics of Kaiba's before so he shouldn't have been surprised by what Mokuba had told him. Hidden beneath that stoic, aloof shield of arrogance was a man who cared deeply about all of the right things. Even if every other word from his lips dripped with acid and mockery. Yuugi knew a protective shell when he saw one, and simply accepted Kaiba for what and who he was. The mind behind the blue eyes, as Yuugi had learned over the years, always had a subtle, sneaky way of proving his disparagers wrong.

From behind the locked glass door of his shop, Yuugi waved after the brother and sister, and then just stood there, watching them go. It was great that they could spend more time together. Growing up in separate households hadn't put a dent in their ability to remain connected but it had been a strain on the two of them. They wanted to be a family in a family that no longer wanted to be one.

_I can certainly relate to that_.

Yuugi moved through his shop, picking up things from the floor, shutting off the lights as he headed toward the back. He would count the safe, he decided, and then spend some time with his mother before hitting the hay.

* * *

He was in the living room, quietly sorting his mail, when his mother entered, swathed in a blue terrycloth robe, and offered him a mug of tea. "Thank you," he murmured, taking the cup of steaming liquid between his hands and smiling tiredly up at her. She smiled back. She'd been a beautiful woman once, and still remained softly pretty in that way only a mother can be to her son. The day's stress had temporarily thickened the lines around her eyes and mouth and her short, curly brown hair looked a bit frizzy. Her career as an accountant's secretary wore her out; tonight she appeared just as exhausted as he felt. Two peas in a Mutou pod, they were.

"What time do you plan on going to bed?" she asked, wrapping the robe more securely around her slender frame.

"Soon." At the first faint flicker of concern, he smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I won't be up all night again like last night. Is this all of the mail that came today?" he added, indicating the small pile scattered on the coffee table before him.

"Mmm," she hummed affirmatively, before she learned down to place a kiss on his temple. "I have an early day tomorrow." Pause. "You'll have lunch with me again?" Yuugi sometimes visited his mother on her lunch breaks whenever he found the time.

"Sure, if you want."

"I do."

"Then I will. Do you still eat at the Domino Café?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Satisfied with this course of action, she moved to go. "You sleep well."

"I will. You too. 'Night, Mom."

"'Night baby."

He lightly flushed at the endearment, reaching for the mail again. He was still getting used to that – her doing the mom thing of calling him a whole slew of cutesy endearments. Except he never protested them. His mother had been withdrawn since the death of her father, but she was handling it much better than he was. A few years ago, his father had shocked the whole family when he'd fallen for a wench he'd met while on one of his business trips. Since then, his mother had taken more notice of the immediate world around her. Then the added blow of her father's death completely knocked what was left of her confidence out from under her. But for what these tragedies had destroyed, they had also opened her eyes to her son's pain, and caused within her a kind of reawakening of motherhood Yuugi had not seen her display in years. It was amazing how people could be so close to one another and yet endure it always as a constant struggle to understand one another, to _be_ there for, and to love one another, the way they needed to. It had taken several major life-changing stumbling blocks to get to where they were now; while Yuugi never regretted the closeness he shared with his mother now, he only wished it hadn't taken so many sacrifices to achieve it.

Tossing a coupon book to the side, he picked up the next envelope. He smiled when his eyes lit on the addresser. "Mai Kujaku, well, I'll be!" he murmured in disbelief under his breath. Well, surprise of surprises, he hadn't expected to hear from her for a while! Last he'd heard the vivacious blond had been backpacking around with Vivian Wong in China before she'd begun what all of his friends were calling "Mai's World Tour." First it was Shanghai, then Singapore, next India, Ireland and Denmark, and now it seemed, Egypt too judging from the postage! Yuugi speculated it was her way of purging out her personal demons, something he understood better than he wanted to. He was glad she kept in regular touch with Jounouchi; he secretly found it cute when Mai randomly texted the former gang member. If Yuugi happened to be around, the guy practically leapt out of his chair with joy. With that fond reminiscence in mind, he used his letter opener, and happily opened the epistle.

He frowned lightly when something fell into his lap after he shook the envelope out. It wasn't a letter, it was a photo. Curiously, he picked it up, and read the back of it, since that was the side facing him. Mai's characteristic flowery, girly script was unmistakable.

_Hey Yuugi! Thought since I hadn't sent you anything in a while, I'd let you know where I've been. I took this photo while I was on a tourist liner on the Nile in Egypt a couple of months ago. Look familiar? Seriously, I thought he was you at first! The resemblance was so uncanny it was almost scary. I have heard the saying that every man has a twin somewhere but wow! It turned out he was a friend of Malik's (who was also with him, talk about a small world huh?) and also a fellow duelist! He was an amazing player and quite the gentleman too! Too bad we were both wrong for each other, I was tempted to take him home with me he was just so handsome! Hope he eventually gets on the tournament circuit! I'd like to see him give the rest of you guys a run for your money!  
Love and kisses, Mai_

Yuugi exhaled through his nose in a huff of silent mirth. _Typical bubbly Mai._ He turned the photograph over to get a look at this supposed look-alike of his. Surely he couldn't look exactly like him, he would have to have the same hair style, for one, and Yuugi didn't know too many men who…

Who…

Seconds later, the photo had fluttered to the floor, and he was dialing a phone number. "Pick up, come on, pick up…" he murmured, tapping his fingertips on his knee. Finally he heard a click and unconsciously sat straight up in his seat.

"_Sa'ida_," greeted Malik's voice in Arabic before he made an irritated _argh!_ sound and switched over to Japanese. "Sorry Yuugi, force of habit. What's up?" He sounded surprised. As he well ought to be. The Ishtars were not used to Yuugi initiating contact first.

Yuugi took a deep breath, let it out quietly, and went on. He already felt stupid, but it was too late to change his mind now. "Malik, I just got this photo from Mai. Were you on a Nile tourist liner a few months ago?"

"Yeah. I ran into her on the boat. I tried to e-mail you about it, but it kept kicking back to me. She told you about it I take it?"

"She wrote me, yeah. Sorry about the e-mail, I changed my service provider to . I'll send it to you the next time I get on." Yuugi paused, debating his next words. "Malik, she sent me this photo that she took on the boat and… Did you have a friend with you?"

"I did." Malik sounded way too casual, Yuugi thought. "Good friend too, you'd like him. He wanted to see the sights. Why? Did she… send you a photo or something?"

"She did." Yuugi's pulse raced, and for whatever reason he was not able to fathom, he pressed on against his will. "Here's the thing. This friend… he… looks exactly like me. No… Not like _me_ me, he looks…" _Calm down!_ He firmly chastised himself. "Malik," he began again, taking a short, steadying breath, "maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see but this friend of yours… he looks exactly like the Pharaoh. The way he looked when he was alive, in the memories I saw in his memory world when… when we… Malik?"

Malik was silent on the other end of the phone for such a long time Yuugi thought the connection had been lost. It sometimes happened during their conversations. They were both half a world away, after all. He was about to hang up to try dialing again, when Malik spoke.

"Yuugi, can I trust you?"

Yuugi was so shocked by the question he sat back against the cushion. "Malik…" he breathed, feeling crushed and hurt. "You don't ever need to ask me that. You know you can."

"This is different." Malik sounded hard, unapologetic. "It's not for me to say."

"What do you mean?" Yuugi was bewildered. "What's going on, Malik?"

The other man ignored him. "Yuugi, do you trust _me_?"

"Of course I do." Yuugi was hurt. "You know I do."

"Then trust me now. Please."

Yuugi lowered his voice to an angry whisper so he wouldn't be tempted to raise his voice and wake his mother. "What's going on, Malik?" Yuugi was starting to sweat he was getting so apprehensive and angry. "Why would Mai send me this photo if I wasn't supposed to know about it?"

"It's because you _weren't_ supposed to know about it." Malik sounded guilty yet firm. "And I'm not saying another word about it. I'm sorry, Yuugi. I- I want to tell you, believe me, I do, but it's not in my hands."

Yuugi's anger faded at the plea in his friend's voice, and instead he started to feel concerned. "All right. I… I won't push you anymore. But at least please tell me this." He took a deep breath. "Are you okay? Is your family okay? This secret you're keeping isn't anything that's going to hurt you, is it?"

"Hurt me, no." At the relief in Malik's voice, the easy, wholesome sound of it relaxed something in the gamer. "Upon that, you have my word."

Yuugi sank down on the couch cushions, staring at the calendar, see-sawing between his fear and his hope, his desire to know and not know at the same time. Finally, exhaling, he realized he had nothing else to say or ask if Malik wasn't going to speak, and knew it was time to let it go. "_Sayonara, _Malik."

"Take care, Yuugi," Malik responded warmly.

He hung up and then turned the phone off. Tossing it onto the coffee table, he sank down onto the couch once more, and leaned forward, resting his face between his palms. He stared at the photograph for a long time before he stowed it away and headed upstairs to bed.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Rewritten and reposted chapter. Mostly intact from the original with a few very significant changes. Gone are the Japanese suffixes, which I will not be using. The ending of the chapter has been changed to what will work for the new redirect for the story. I am much happier with this new version and I hope my readers will be too. Malik's greeting to Yuugi is supposed to be an informal way of saying "hello" in Arabic in Egypt according to this source: users . elite . net. (Jennifer's Language Page). To be truthful, I found many, many sources that say "hello" can be said in many ways in Arabic and it changes from region to region, dialect to dialect, and country to country. _


	16. Love In Cairo, Part I

"**Love In Cairo, Part 1"**

From her seat by the windowsill, Sarah stared down into the metropolis below. Anzu was at class today, leaving her alone in the quiet studio apartment. Such moments of tranquility were a rare occurrence for the Egyptologist, (and when you had to spend so much time with someone like Mandy, double that to once in a blue moon) so she savored every blissful second of it.

It was no kind of wonder why they called it The Big Apple. Its residents milled around below her window, tiny dots of life hustling and bustling in a constant, unending multihued stream of human traffic. The horizon hung thick with the brownish-gray smog perfuming the air with the oily stench of mild putrefaction wafting on the barest of breezes. Oddly, for some reason, it reminded her of the dangerous plunge forward of modern civilization and its constantly inevitable side-steps. _Kind of like me_, she thought wistfully, tracing her tapered fingertips upon the hard, cool glass pane. The natural oils in her fingertips left behind faint streaks. _My life has been like that, _she went on dreamily, _always moving forward, always in a hurry. Perhaps it's why I became an Egyptologist. One foot is kept firmly in the past while my present rushes me into the future at breakneck speed. Somehow it's conspired to bring the both of them together. Now as I try to decide on what to do next, it waits patiently, with its hand extended, waiting for me to make up my mind._

Sarah's hand dropped from the window. Gradually she sat up and allowed a sigh to escape from her lips. It was time to take that hand. Once before not too long ago she had crashed into pieces and gathered them together into a complete whole again; she could handle this new challenge. It beckoned her as the stoic stare of an opponent at an eternal game of poker.

_Your move._

Sarah stood and crossed the room. Leafing through the day book she kept by the telephone, she came upon the page she was looking for, and then picked up the receiver from its cradle.

* * *

It was another hot and arid Egyptian morning when Atem stepped out of the small home he shared with the Ishtars and dialed his mobile phone. A hesitant, unsure voice answered.

"Hello?"

Feeling lighthearted, he wanted to sing his greeting. Instead he managed a composed and collected: "_Aw ibetj_."*

"Atem! _Aw ibek!_"** she replied, her voice rising with the pleasure of hearing his. "I didn't recognize the number. Where are you calling from?"

"Home." He grinned. "I have my own phone now."

"Finally!" she exalted. "I was wondering when you were going to get one. I'm so happy you called. I have some good news and some bad news."

Atem sat down again. "Bad news first," he decided.

"Really?"

"Yes, so that the good news trumps it, and makes it not _seem_ so bad… in theory."

She laughed. "All right. The bad news is Anzu is getting suspicious about you, although I don't know why, and she's not telling me, not that I have a right to complain, since _she's_ trying to get me to talk, and _I'm_ not cooperating either."

Well, _crap_. "…Yes," he responded slowly, after a hesitant pause. "I… I will have to explain why that may be. There is much I need to tell you, Sarah. So much that cannot be explained over a wireless connection." Sigh. "What is the good news?"

"Ah, yes, the good news." Sarah sounded doubly pleased, a cat anticipating its prey with much satisfaction. "I've made my decision. I'm coming to Egypt."

A joyful jolt of shock launched the former pharaoh up from the rocking chair on the porch. A large grin spread across his face. "Y-You… are? Really? You're coming? To Cairo?"

Sarah giggled. "Yes! I am. Really. I'm coming. To Cairo."

Atem chuckled at her imitation. "When?"

"Any time now. How soon would be enough notice for you?"

"I, uh, wow, I…" Atem started looking around, casting about for something, unsure of what he was looking for. "How soon can you be here?" he queried in return when his frantic search turned up nothing useful. He didn't even know what he'd been looking for in the first place.

"I'm at the airport in Newark now and they've just called my flight number (thank you!). Sorry!" She sounded out of breath. "I've just showed my boarding pass and passport to the lady. Anyway, I'm booked at the Four Seasons in the city, so don't worry about putting me up. I'm going to call a cab when I get there." Pause. "This… isn't a problem for you is it? I know this is short notice, and beyond rude of me, to just throw this at you but…"

Rude? _Rude?_ When this was everything he'd been hoping for? Atem burst out laughing, while he headed into the house. "No! No. Truly, it is quite all right. It is short notice, yes, however; I can assure you that we can accommodate you. Do not worry about calling for a cab either. I would prefer to pick you up myself." He spied Rishid reading a thick book in the corner of the living room and motioned for his attention. The man placed a bookmark between the pages, stood, smoothed his robes, and waited for Atem to speak.

"Rishid, Sarah is coming to Egypt, to Cairo, from Newark. She will need a ride to the Four Seasons hotel from the airport. Could I trouble…?"

Rishid inclined his head gracefully. "It is no trouble. When is her plane due to arrive?"

Atem consulted with Sarah, before replying. "Later on tonight."

Rishid nodded. "That is fine. It would be in our best interest to head out soon so that we can make good time. Malik and Isis will need to be informed, of course." He paused a moment, adding thoughtfully, "You _will_ be coming with me of course. I cannot be the one to greet her at the gate." A tiny smirk turned his lips up as he said this, making Atem color slightly. Was the evidence of his affections that obvious? No matter. He had lived enough years keeping everything bottled up inside. It was a great relief being able to wear his heart on his sleeve for once.

About that… What _was_ he going to tell Sarah? That he had been in this world before in spirit form? That the Millennium Items really had had a use and weren't just pretty display pieces? That he had spent thousands of years trapped inside one of them? That he had shared a body with another human being? What about Battle City and, Re forbid, _Doma_? Or what about the war for saving the world from the Shadows and the evil designs of the vengeful Thief Bakura? Would it simply be better to say nothing, then, since most of it no longer pertained to the present? Yet wouldn't it also be wrong for him to keep the truth from her, since the gods unwittingly had seen to involve Sarah Chanson in his personal story?

No. Atem was not in the practice of crime by omission. Sarah deserved to know everything. Naturally, he feared to lose her regard, yet he felt certain that it would be far worse for Sarah to remain his friend while laboring under a lie, than to lose her friendship because of the truth. Still… he did not have a good feeling about it, no matter how his mind tried to spin it.

It would do him well to take heed of his own words… about fear being the first step to courage. So much had passed between himself and his other, how he could fail _not_ to continue to hold such a divine truth as sacred within his heart? _It has to start somewhere._

"Rishid."

The larger man slid his gaze to the former pharaoh briefly as the clunky old Fiesta ambled down the rough road to Cairo International. "Yes?"

Atem slid down in his seat with his arms folded over his chest. He glanced over at the generally quiet man, wondering if he was the right person to ask. They didn't speak much beyond the every day exchange of pleasantries that revolved mostly around Malik and Isis and the occasional mutual chore for the benefit of the whole Ishtar nest (which Atem was now considered a part of as if he'd always been). He actually had no idea whatsoever of what Rishid truly thought of him. He liked the older man well enough. This was an opportunity to find out just what kind of relationship they _did_ have besides the one conceived for them by happenstance.

He took a deep breath, aware of the randomness of the imminent query. "What do you think of me? Please be honest."

Rishid did not respond right away. "I believe," he replied slowly, as if random questions were a normal part of his every day, "that you are a good man, if a bit selfish, if I might be bold as to be frank." Atem gave a reluctant incline of his chin. He'd always known that about himself. To hear it from someone else came as no sort of great shock. "You often feel conflict within yourself," Rishid continued, "and the feelings that you have for those you hold dear. I think you tend to react rather… impulsively at times. Yet I cannot even see that as a failing." An infinitesimal smirk arched his upper lip. Glancing sideways at the former god king, he added. "But I am perhaps biased. You are so much like Malik. You have been a far more exuberant companion for him than I could hope for - and I will admit, I do enjoy how often you surprise Isis." To Atem's astonishment, he winked. "And to more directly answer your question, I personally enjoy your company. You have brought a light to our lives we did not know that we needed."

Atem looked outside at the passing scenery to hide a brief blush, digesting this new information. "You rehearsed that," he finally muttered.

Rishid's attention did not waver from the road. "Yes." Atem spun on him, mouth open. "Nevertheless, it is true."

His mouth refused to cooperate with him. He opened and closed it a few times before surrendering to the fact sound wasn't going to emerge of its own volition. Gradually, he settled for his usual pharaonic posture, and re-adapted his throne room gaze of steel. The dusty road loomed ahead of them, and with it, the future.

Atem's journey was not without its hardships, that fact alone was constant and immutable. Yet there was no way he could have foreseen _this_ new challenge. He was painfully aware that his heart was at cross-purposes. His dilemmas had been seemingly much simpler before his resurrection. Emerging from the completed Puzzle to answer the heart of his other half's desire for strength? Easy. Protecting this other half from the evil world that wished to do his little light and his friends harm? Easier. Defeating his opponents in a myriad of games, both of this realm and of the next? Pie looked complicated in comparison. Saving the world from Zorc? Child's play. Discovering his name and who he had been? A walk in the park. Losing to Yuugi in the Ceremonial Duel, and then walking into the light of the afterlife, never to be seen or heard from again? Okay, it wasn't exactly a piece of cake, that one. He wasn't sure it trumped waking up inside his own sarcophagus!

He knew he would go crazy if he tried to encompass of it all at once so he forced down the burgeoning panic growing in his chest. It would not serve to meet Sarah with this internal agony showing on his face. _I will know when I see her, what I should do,_ he calmly argued against the roiling strife within his center. _This need be no more difficult than the dilemmas I have faced before in the past. Of course, in that past, I was Pharaoh, and could have reality be as it suited to my desires. It is not true here in these modern times. I am no god in the eyes of any, nor do I wish to be, yet even as I feel I can surmount the challenges the gods have placed before me._

Still, he closed his eyes, and prayed deeply within his own heart – the same, troublesome heart that cried for one soul yet yearned for the hearts of two.

* * *

The only thing Sarah could constructively claim to hate about air travel was the throngs of people forced to funnel through a hollow metal tube between a bus and a terminal. There seemed to be a struggle for every moment of the travel process: going _onto_ the plane, sitting _in_ the plane, getting _off_ the plane, and the long lines for baggage check…! Nightmare writ large anyone? Granted, she was used to the rough-and-tumble treatment that came with traveling, as her preternatural love for Egypt fairly outweighed the insanity of the inconveniences it enjoyed throwing in her way. Archeology had to be the most patient science in the world; it _thrived_ on the passage of time. It was the ever-giving gift that kept on giving, after all. Besides, knowing what awaited her on the other end of this trip reassured and soothed the irritation she felt about being squeezed and nearly _shoved_ out into the airport lobby.

Once she was clear of the massive out flux of the other arriving passengers, Sarah laid a hand over her hammering heart with relief. Despite her exhaustion, this was the best part of reaching her destination: knowing she was at her destination, and that she had reached it safe and sound. Her body ached for a bed while at the same time it desperately wanted to run laps around Cairo to get rid of the stuffy feeling in her head. Soon, soon, she reassured the twitching energy coiled tautly within her breast. Right now, she had a cab to call, and a hotel bed to crash into. Unless…? She cast a glance around the lobby hopefully, ignoring the weight of the carry-on bags straining her slender shoulders.

She saw him before he saw her, and for a moment, she was content of the delay to simply drink in the sight of him. He was sitting in one of the airport chairs, kind of leaning over, and watching the floor between his leather shoes. His bronze skin was a perfect complement to the black leather ensemble he had adopted for his contemporary attire. His pharaonic jewelry had been replaced by more modern fare, and it suited him no less than his own. Large golden feather shaped earrings dangled from his ears, matching the gold serpent shaped arm bracelets decorating his wrists and upper forearms. His sun-kissed crown of hair remained as she remembered it. It fell artfully around his sharp, angular face, almost effeminate in its quirky design, made masculine by the intense, sharp-eyed, kohl-enhanced, crimson stare that penetrated from between the golden locks. When he saw her and moved to rise, the play of muscles under his shirt was difficult to ignore. Atem, former pharaoh of Egypt, remained as beautiful as she remembered him. When their eyes finally met, and he smiled, she saw none of the bewilderment or confusion from many months before. He was a man rediscovered and at home in his new element.

She smiled back, glancing only briefly at Rishid, who came forward to relieve her of her baggage. Sarah and Atem approached one another, smiling still, giddy at the sight of one another, seeming unsure of what to do or say. Yet Sarah knew, and acted, for she had known or dreamed of doing nothing else since they had become friends. She embraced him, wholeheartedly, secretly happy to find that he fit against her almost perfectly. Tentatively, she felt his arms encircle her, before the confidence of her own grasp upon him reassured his.

"How was your flight? I trust you are well?" he asked in his regal way after they had parted, though she was pleased he had not yet completely relinquished his hands from her elbows.

Sarah exhaled audibly. "Stressful. I'm just happy I'm finally here. You look great!" she added to switch the subject. She really meant he looked mouth-watering, except she figured that was a bit too forward, especially for her, and she wasn't completely sure about how she felt to be that bold. _Oh really?_ refuted the little tingles running up and down her body. _Those little fantasies of yours aren't proof enough? Look at him, and tell me you _don't_ want to invite him back to your hotel with you._

Unaware of the naughty thoughts running through his friend's head, Atem merely smirked at her exclamation, his apparent confidence of his appearance not lost on her. "Tell me something I do not already know." For his conceit, Sarah gave his bicep a light smack, which only seemed to add fuel to it, for his smirk only widened.

_He likes it._ _I can work with that_. "Thank you guys so much for picking me up." She looked from one man to the other, guilt wracking her once again. "I feel like a total heel for showing up so suddenly like this without telling you sooner. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important? Be honest," she added pleadingly, "I'll make up for it."

But Atem only shrugged. "If you call taking a break from surfing the web for colleges important, then yes. Although," he interrupted as her expression fell, "I am _quite_ at a road block concerning that at the moment. I am glad for the distraction." Rishid quietly fell behind them as the pair headed out of the terminal lobby on their way toward the airport parking lot. Sarah noted that Atem walked close to her and seemed almost too obvious in the way he kept brushing against her arm.

"What's the trouble?" she asked.

Seeming glad to have someone who was interested in discussing it, Atem vented his frustration. "I cannot attend any colleges in any country!" He threw his hands into the air. "It seems I must exist on paper from the moment of my birth else I cannot find a way in which to make a living!" He darkened in anger and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from waving around. "It is not enough to _learn_ skills and master them; you must first prove that you _exist_ in order to receive the instruction to learn these skills! Even with the living proof standing right before one's own eyes!" At last he glanced at her, clearly wound up. "How do you manage bearing such utter nonsense?"

Sarah chuckled. "From being born into it, I guess. I don't really think about the bullshit, I just do what is demanded of me so I can get what I want. But I can appreciate your frustration. Unlike most people, you don't have a birth certificate, a Social Security number, or any proof whatsoever of a primary or secondary education." Atem's normally stony expression became crestfallen. "There are ways to get by all that, though. I'm surprised that you don't know about them?"

Atem nodded reluctantly. "Yes, I have heard of these 'ways.' None of them sound especially appealing to me: simply more nonsense begetting more nonsense. Thus I remain in debate. Before I attempt to take action on my own behalf, I must discover what I want to do first, what skill set it is that I can learn and use to the betterment of myself, and others. I am afraid," he added impishly, with a wink, "that while impressive, saying that I was a former god king of ancient Kemet is not going to gain me an interview, nor admittance to the world's finest learning institutions."

"Not unless you want to marry a princess." Sarah poked his ribs playfully. "Monarchies still do exist today in several countries."

"Ah, yes, they do." Atem shrugged and his step became a little jauntier. "However, I no longer hold Egypt's crown within my grasp. I am, as you Westerners are fond of saying, out of a job."

Sarah looped her arm through his and drew him at her side, the gesture surprising him, from the subtle widening of his eyes. "Out of a job or not, at least the throne _was_ yours," she said. "History left behind nothing but good things to say about your reign." He smiled again, more brightly. "Trust me. I'm the foremost expert on you in the modern world today… or that I know of."

"Oh? Is that so?" Atem knew a challenge when he heard it, even an implicit one. He held her against his own side a little more tightly, before they had to unwillingly part to get into the back of the Fiesta. "We shall see."

* * *

"Yuugi called."

Isis's slender fingers stopped mid-tappity-tap over the laptop's keyboard. She held her breath, certain, very certain, she had heard him wrong. Breathing again, she looked over the top of the monitor at where Malik was leaned against the threshold of the kitchen. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the expression on his face was disturbed and dark with tension.

"When?" she heard herself ask.

"Yesterday."

Several seconds of pure silence passed. Eventually Isis closed the screen, placed both hands in her lap, and quietly waited for her little brother to speak further. She watched the play of emotions entangle within him until he reached up to card his fingers through the unruly mop of his hair. "Mai sent him a picture she took of Atem aboard the tourist ship. He sensed something was up so he called me." He sighed gustily, and dropped his hand. He walked over to the window and gazed out across the wasteland. "He let me get away with not telling him for now. But I don't think I'll be able to do it again if he decides he wants to know what's going on over here. Yuugi can be… very persistent when he wants to be." Turning to look at his sister, his face twisted in grave discomfort. Then he answered the question that he knew was at the tip of her tongue. "I haven't told Atem yet."

Isis sat back against her chair, shocked. "Why not?"

Malik raised his hands helplessly, before he dropped them heavily at his sides again. "What purpose would it serve? He doesn't want to contact anyone so what would the point be of burdening him with this? Technically, Yuugi doesn't know anything. I didn't offer him a clue. When he pressed me, and I pushed away, he backed off." Isis watched Malik pace agitatedly around the tiny kitchen silently as the young man ranted.

"Still, he has a right to know," interjected Isis. "Atem asked us to tell him if Yuugi contacted us. You remember that, don't you?"

Malik's answer was to trace the floorboards with a leather booted toe and nod reluctantly. Yes, he did remember Isis telling him about that. He also remembered almost roaring at Atem later when he found out.

"We should allow Atem to make that choice," she continued firmly. "The telling of this secret is something only Atem can do. Until he changes his mind, we _must_ continue to honor his desire for anonymity. This also includes bearing the burden of proof until we no longer need to."

_And when will that be?_ Was the question floating and lingering in the air. Malik turned back once more to the bright square shining into the house upon them; the rays of sunlight stabbed through the room's occupants like many invisible, searing daggers.

* * *

_*ancient Egyptian greeting from a man to a woman  
**ancient Egyptian greeting from a woman to a man _


	17. Love In Cairo, Part II

"**Love In Cairo, Part 2"**

Even though Sarah was the one who was visiting Egypt, it was she, and not Atem who offered to introduce the ancient Egyptian to the wonders of the famous city of Cairo. Malik had seen fit only to regale him with the sights of his ancient past, humbled into ruins by the ravages of time and the might of Re. Atem was determined to discover the world of the Egypt of today – and who better to do it than a student of the culture itself?

"But I have to warn you," she told him, "you'd probably be better off hiring a tour guide. You may find this hard to believe, but… for as many times as I've had to travel to Cairo, I've never taken a day just to tour the city."

For a moment, he froze, taken aback by the confession, which probably wasn't the smartest thing to do given where they were and what they were doing. The Khan El Khalili Bazaar was not a place a person could just _stand_ around – not unless they wanted to get knocked over by the constant stream of human traffic. She grasped hold of his elbow to encourage him to keep moving. "You have _never_ spent any leisure time here?" Atem watched the older woman closely. She shook her head, pulling him along, expertly navigating the ancient market place. "Why on earth not?"

They ducked off into a café and stood under the awning. "Well, you know how I'm always busy with the latest expedition," she replied with a little embarrassed laugh. "I've spent so much time coordinating expeditions and doing research, I hardly ever have time to do anything except sleep."

Atem folded his arms over his chest. "Yes, I am well aware of your 'expeditions,'" he muttered brusquely. "They always seem to dictate the length of our conversations."

Sarah shot him a helpless look before the small café's proprietor asked her what she wanted to order. "_Karakare_ for me, and…" she answered, glancing quickly at Atem who shrugged – he didn't know what was served here, nor cared. "And the same for my friend please." When the man appeared a bit lost, she repeated the order in Arabic, which made the man smile and nod to show he understood at last. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, getting back on the track of the conversation. Her tone was not snappish, yet it was not without an undertone of warning. Mostly she just appeared bewildered. When he didn't respond, she went on. "Atem, you know how important my work is." He wouldn't look at her, so she reached out pleadingly and touched his arm. "You know how much I love it when you call me," she said quietly for his ears only. He stared down at the hand lying against his bare arm. "I always hated to have to hang up."

Tentatively, he raised his eyes. She was smiling hopefully, the light in her blue eyes growing when his scarlet gaze collided with hers. He touched her fingers in a light, brief caress, briefly dismayed when she became distracted by the arrival of their beverages. She paid for them and then they went off to lean against the side against one of the buildings to enjoy their drinks without the danger of being knocked over by the crowds.

"So what do you think so far?" she asked him. "I know it's a bit of a crazy place, but it's the most famous bazaar around. Mandy's always raving about it, and now I know why."

"It's all right." Atem smiled, almost apologetically. "A bit loud, though," he added after wincing a bit.

She chuckled warmly and sipped her drink. "With this many people coming through here, you bet! But aren't you used to this?"

"Yes, I am… for only once or twice a year." Atem stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "Pharaohs were not permitted to go gallivanting around marketplaces," he explained. "The most people I have ever seen at one time were during my displays at the Window of Appearances. Thousands of faces as far as the eye can see. To know that they traveled from all over Kemet just to see _me_. It… was often a very overwhelming experience."

Sarah watched him, riveted. "I can't imagine. Still, it must have been an incredible sight." She contemplated the depths of the drink wrapped between her hands. "Atem?" she murmured after a long, comfortable silence had passed.

Atem shifted his attention from the stream of passer-bys. "Hmm?"

The woman took a quiet breath. "It's a silly question, and I know the answer, but bear with me. Did… people _really_ believe what the writings and hieroglyphs say about pharaohs? Were you believed to literally be a god on earth in human form?"

Atem caressed the cylindrical shape of his cup thoughtfully, watching a few children run by laughing, and tugging at each other's sleeves. "The common people, the slaves: they believed," he whispered softly. "However, the priests, the magicians, the nobles and the members of the royal family… We knew the truth. Making the peasantry believe we were of divine ancestry was more political tool than something that we truly believed. No one directly spoke of it, and of course, _they_ never spoke of it to _me_."

Sarah understood. "It would be treason."

The former god king nodded. "Not only treason. I think… even _they_ wanted to believe it too, to be perfectly honest. If they do not say it, then maybe it will not be true, yes?" Sarah nodded. "To say a name of a thing is to bring it to life, to give it power, and to give it an _identity_." He straightened up and disposed of his empty container in a garbage can with a neat, practiced movement. Sarah did the same, and accepted his arm when he offered it to her. "You, more than most, know how powerful a word can be."

Sarah smiled and gave a grave incline of her chin. "Yes. Yes, I do know."

Atem smiled back, a sure, confident smirk shining like the sun and twice as bright.

Suddenly a thin reedy teen with a desperate look about him, crashed into them, seized Sarah's purse, and tried to tear it away from her. Startled, Sarah responded by simply yanking it back from him, tightening her already firm hold on the object. The boy persisted until a hand closed around the scruff of his neck and twisted him around bodily, nearly hauling his feet off the ground. When he turned his head to look at who grabbed him, he found himself submerged beneath a livid pair of crimson eyes and a fierce, haughty expression.

Atem spoke, softly, yet with all of the promise of a violent retribution if his command was not obeyed. "Release the purse."

Staring, as if he were hypnotized by the former pharaoh's baritones, the boy's grip on the strap loosened. Sarah took the opportunity to pull it free from his weakened grasp and firmly placed herself behind Atem's shoulder.

"Leave," he boomed, "and do not let me catch sight of you again."

The boy nodded, clearly shaken, and took off like a shot through the throng of people. Atem watched the ruffian go with fists clenched, shaking with rage, almost about to make good on his threat anyway, when Sarah spoke.

"I wouldn't want to run into you in a dark alley. Good lord."

Atem glanced back at her, and affected a sheepish half-smile, shrugging one shoulder. She didn't know the half of it. "'The only humiliation is helplessness.'"*

* * *

From the tallest rooftop shop that overlooked the bustling bazaar below, a man in a hooded cloak watched the street urchin struggle with the woman until her companion wrested hold of the teen and forced him to retreat. For a moment, he watched the skinny boy flee, feeling a familiar twinge of nostalgia. Once upon a time, he too had had to live in such a desperate, unsightly way. He did not despise the child, yet he did not envy him either. Unless he found his wits soon, the boy was doomed to die like a starved dog in the gutters, if some other mishap did not claim him first. No length of the centuries and the advancement of civilization could change that sordid fact.

His ravenous eyes narrowed as they shifted and focused back on the woman's companion. The man's lanky figure was crowned by a great head of black spikes with jagged gold locks. They framed his elegant, handsome bronze features, and swayed gently with his unmistakably confident stride. The woman on his arm was like an ethereal snow flower in contrast to his swarthiness. She struck him as vaguely familiar, yet he could not place her face in his memory. He was certain he had seen her before; not as she was now, the famous female Egyptologist, but as someone from a far away time, a time he did not miss. Up till now it was a time that had defined and shaped him… and the man she clung to, a man that the very sight of nearly sent him into a bloody paroxysm of red hazed rage. To feel that it had happened was one thing… to actually see it – see _him_ - in the flesh and blood for the truth it (it, it, not him, not a person, NOT HIM) was, that was another. How it had gotten its own body again went beyond him, and he discovered he didn't care. What mattered was that it was here, beneath his gaze, like an offering from Set.

His days of hiding in the corner of someone else's soul, waiting for a long-denied death, had come to an end. A tormented smile twisted his chapped lips into a wide grimace. He licked them slowly, almost as if he could taste the anticipation on the wind.

_Not yet_, he placated the roiling murderous impulses twisting and turning his gut like a nest of spitting cobras. _I will have my chance. The moment of his reckoning will arrive, and when it does, I will rejoice. _With difficulty, he forced his lungs to take a deep, calming, shuddering breath. _I didn't wait this long, fight this hard against life and against death, to allow myself to fail. _In, out, in, and out… _My hatred can only be surpassed by my impatience, and should I let it take control of me, I will lose again…_ Breathing, fast, too fast, slow, _slow_!_ And I do _not_ plan on losing a third time. Not again, not to _you_!_ He spat to the side and simmered, clenching his shaking fists at his sides.

"Nothing is going to stand in my way this time," he growled quietly. "I killed you once, Pharaoh, I will do it again… and I will do it _better_."

* * *

They were back in Cairo, perusing their menus at the Four Seasons restaurant. Atem wasn't able to read the menu, so Sarah kindly read aloud the names of the dishes for him. At last, after long, careful deliberation, he picked one of the meals that had a picture next to it. He figured he was safer knowing what it was going to look like when it came out, than ordering a meal that might end up looking and being unappetizing. He wanted to order dessert first, and was astonished that dessert had to come _after_ the meal. ("Did people eat dessert before meals back then?" Sarah asked him curiously. Atem shook his head with a smirk. "No, _I_ did.")

Sarah fingered the napkin edge of her fancy place setting, measuring and weighing her thoughts. "Atem." She paused, as if appreciating the impact of her next words, before going on, eyes fastened on the silverware. "I… I'm writing a book."

Atem glanced up from where he was trying to get the spaghetti on his fork, and not having much success. "A book?" Pleasure flickered in his eyes. "Ah, you are writing a historical record?" The spaghetti slipped off the tines and back onto the plate. "Oh by Set, will I never master this?" he grumbled.

"Try turning the fork into the noodles." She went on. "Yes, well, sort of."

He did and grinned like a little boy who had discovered something new. "What do you mean by 'sort of'?" He twirled the spaghetti strands merrily. "You are either writing one or you are not."

"I-I am. It's just, it's not…" Sarah took a quick, deep breath and puffed it out, finally allowing her gaze to meet his. "Between you and me, it's going to be the only complete and accurate historical record of someone who lived in Egypt 3000 years ago. The trouble with it is I won't be able to make that claim when I publish it."

"Why ever not?"

A sad little smile flickered across her lips. She popped a dumpling into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, wiping her mouth before speaking again. "Nobody is going to believe I brought a pharaoh back from the dead," she said indistinctly. "So I'll have to present my facts in the form of speculation based on 'theories.'"

At last he grasped it. "_You_ will know it is the truth but you will not be able to _say_ it is the truth."

"Exactly!" Sarah affirmed glumly. "I have to tell the truth using the lie that they're _my_ ideas and theories when they're _nothing _of the sort."

Atem tapped the edge of his plate thoughtfully. "This is not honorable to you."

"No." Sarah's shoulders fell. "So you can see where I'm at here."

The former god king ate a few more bite of his meal before going on. "Embellish it."

Sarah was sure she had misunderstood him. "What?"

"Write it as a fictional story." Atem smirked at the way her delicate lower jaw slowly dropped open. "Your conscience will remain clear, and what is more, you will not be a liar to yourself, nor to anyone else. Most truths are told through the best told lies, after all."

Sarah could not believe she was hearing this. "Whoa, hold the phone. _Me_ creatively write? You've heard my missives. They read like diary entries. '_Woke at nine. Ate dinner. Went to bed. Came back to museum. Dead guy from dig alive somehow. I am confused.'_" He laughed at her stilted, robotic delivery. "I'm no Elizabeth Peters."**

"No you are not." He nodded sagely, pretending he knew who Elizabeth Peters was. "Yet you are making excuses. I have offered you a solution that allows you to publish your findings without losing face. What is more, I will offer my assistance."

This time Sarah openly gaped at him. "You would?"

"This book is about me, yes?"

"Essentially…"

But Atem sat up straight in his chair and put back into his posture, an unconscious habit he'd retained from his days as the Living Horus about to make a royal decree. "I, Atem, shall provide you with the best muse of all for a story about me: Me!"

Sarah clamped on her lower lip, appearing uncertain of whether or not bursting into peals of laughter was appropriate inside a crowded restaurant. At last, she was able to find her voice between a few quiet sips of water. "That," she swallowed again, "is a generous offer of your time."

"You brought me back to life, Sarah. It is your time to have."

"Are you sure?" Sarah was having difficulty accepting what was going on. "I can't guarantee it's going to be incredibly stimulating. It'll be pretty boring most of the time. I'll be asking you a lot of questions, most of them inane, and you'll have to come up with a lot of answers."

"Interesting you should say that," Atem gazed sidelong at her, daring her, "for that is what I told every would-be bride who wanted to be my queen."

Fighting back a blush, Sarah narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief, picking up her wine glass. "You did _not_." Atem smirked. "Wow, you _are_ a bastard."

He waved it aside. "I have been called worse."

She could bet he had been. Sarah thoughtfully chewed it over. "This is going to seriously cut into our tour time," she warned.

Atem just folded his arms and shrugged carelessly. "Who says that it must? You can walk and talk, can you not?"

She was up for the challenge and pointed her fork at him. "You _know_ I can. Now…" She stole the menu up again and scanned it. "What say we split a tiramisu and get on our way?"

Atem smiled brilliantly. "I say we have a plan."

* * *

_*ancient Egyptian proverb  
**a female author who is best known for her long running Amelia Peabody mystery series about the adventures of a female Egyptologist_


	18. Abducted

"**Abducted"**

"… So she tells me, 'It's under the seat.' I check under the seat, and you know what I find?"

"What do you find?"

"A switchblade."

Yuugi stopped stirring his coffee, startled out of his self-possession with the unexpected turn of his mother's, up until now, dreary narrative about a fellow co-worker of hers. "A _switchblade_?" he repeated incredulously. "What was that doing there?"

His mother nodded. "I asked her the same question. It turns out, it belongs to her son. She didn't even know he had a knife! 'He's only sixteen, what is he doing with a knife?' I asked her. She told me she had no idea. But good lord she was rattled." Mrs. Mutou shook her head and stabbed at a few leaves of her cob salad with her plastic fork. "I don't know else happened after that." She ate her forkful and viewed the plate between her son's arms with concern. "You haven't touched your lunch. Are you feeling all right?"

Yuugi blinked several times, distracted. "Huh? Oh. I'm fine. I had a big breakfast this morning. I guess I over ordered."

"Well, ask the waitress for a box then. You can eat it later." Mrs. Mutou was a big supporter of leftovers. "Do you work today?"

"Yes. Actually I'm working now. Shizuka is manning the shop for me this afternoon. I'm on-call at the moment." He patted the mobile phone attached to his belt for reference.

"Alone?" Mrs. Mutou frowned. "Isn't she a little young to be running the store by herself?"

"She's eighteen, Mom. Besides, I was running the place when I was sixteen most afternoons while Grandpa watched his game shows." Yuugi smiled then. "Trust me, she's fine."

His mother didn't appear convinced, but thankfully, she changed the subject. "So how are things at Kaiba Corp. going lately? Anything new?"

Yuugi sipped his coffee, glad to have good news for once. "Yes. My benefits kicked in two days ago."

"They _did_?" She brightened, clapping her hands together in delight. Yuugi's lack of health insurance had always been a constant source of concern for her, since she couldn't include him on her own anymore after he turned twenty. "That's wonderful! Dental too?"

"Dental too." He grinned, genuinely pleased to be making his mother's day. So little rarely made her smile, it was nice when he was able to put one on her face.

Mrs. Mutou sat back in her seat, shoulders dropping dramatically. "That is such a relief. What a load off my mind." Her eyebrows rose suddenly with the striking of thought. "Hey, now you can go see the doctor about, you know…" whisper, "your problem."

Yuugi reddened. "Mom, we're in _public_," he muttered under his breath. He stopped just short of slithering beneath the booth and expiring there.

"Sorry! I'm just saying. I know it's been something of an issue for you so I'm happy you…"

"Freeze right there, Mom."

She finally seemed to get it, and reached over to pat her son lovingly on the cheek. "You don't need to be embarrassed about it. Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Yeah, but you're my _mother_." Yuugi lowered his eyes. "I… I shouldn't even have said anything to you about it in the first place." Except he'd had to, after he had asked to see if he was still on her medical insurance and being his mother, she had wanted to know why, and then he'd been forced to tell her. He was still mortified that she knew about this problem of his – a problem that should have stayed between him and a doctor. It was too late for that now, he grumbled inwardly. He pressed his palm against his forehead. _Well, I only have myself to blame_, he thought. _At least I didn't do one stupider and told Anzu or the rest of my friends about it._ His mother might be a bit lax in the 'right time, right place' department, but at least she knew how to keep her son's more… uncomfortable secrets.

His mother conceded with a shrug, took the last bite of her lunch, before closing the transparent plastic container it had come in to dispose of it. She turned her wrist over and glanced at her watch. "I need to get going, honey." She pushed back her chair and stood up.

"All right. I'm going to stay here for a bit longer. Don't work too hard, okay?"

She kissed him on the forehead, gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, and swung her purse against her hip as she headed out of the coffee shop. After she'd gone, Yuugi flagged down a waitress and asked her for a box. She did so with a pert wink and a "Sure thing, sweetie pie." Obviously she thought he was cute. He ducked his head down after she swept away to cover a blush. Pretty girls always had that affect on him.

While he waited for her to return, Yuugi pulled out the photo Mai had sent him to gaze at it for what seemed like the hundredth time. Ever since he'd gotten it, he'd carried it around with him constantly.

His logical side told him he shouldn't be obsessing over something that was impossible. _The man was dead_. He'd personally witnessed the pharaoh's passage into the afterlife with his own two eyes. You couldn't get any deader than that. Still, the idea had planted itself, along with the image in his hand, and he refused to let go of it. Malik's evasiveness on the phone had only cemented his suspicions. The answers were there, he knew, and it would only take a phone call, or heck, even a single trip around the globe to get them. Malik would give up the ghost. He always did when Yuugi pressed him hard enough. Long ago Yuugi had learned how to use his indomitable influence over his friends to get his way, often more for their benefit than for his own.

So why was he hesitating?

The King of Games exhaled, rubbing his forehead self-consciously. A simple enough query that couldn't even begin to cover the reasons he had for not doing what every nerve alive in his body screamed out at him to do. He was afraid. Not just for himself and what he was afraid of finding out, but for the what-if factor that predominated his intense urge to dig deeper. What if by sticking his nose in where it obviously wasn't wanted put someone in danger? He couldn't bear to do that.

_It isn't Malik's secret to tell. _Yuugi reiterated to his wobbling conscience harshly. _If it weren't something that wouldn't possibly negatively affect me in some way if I knew about it, he wouldn't have felt the need to keep it from me. He, or even the person who's the true bearer of the secret, could be protecting me. _

Yuugi bit his bottom lip. "Nnngh." He had to stop thinking in circles like this. He'd been chasing these thoughts around and they kept bringing him back to the same conclusion: leave it alone. Thus far even with this firm stand in mind, the other side of him kept firing off a plague of questions. One chief among these stood out: _If I wasn't meant to know about this secret, why do I have this picture? Why does my heart keep telling me what I can barely bring myself to believe: That somehow Atem's spirit had found a way to come back from the other side? _How, he couldn't bring himself to begin to speculate about.

He ran his thumb over the face of the man in the photo that all too closely resembled a certain dead pharaoh. "You know I miss you," he told the smirking image softly. "But if you don't need me anymore, I understand." He closed his eyes and smiled, content, and at peace. _I want him to be happy. _At last he took out his mobile phone and typed out a text message. Yuugi usually wasn't one for cryptic statements, except something in him told him that what he had to say was going to be read by the right person.

When the waitress brought him his box, Yuugi noticed there was a folded note lying on top of it. Thinking it was a receipt, he frowned as he picked it up. That was peculiar. _I already paid for both of the meals,_ he thought, confused. He had the receipt in his pocket. He sighed as he opened it. He'd just inform the hostess before he left.

He frowned again. It wasn't a receipt. It was a note of some kind. _Weird, I wonder what…_

He felt cold. It literally felt as if all of the blood in his veins had turned into ice water. His eyes dilated and suddenly he was having trouble breathing. Afterward he crushed the note in his hand, closed his eyes, and stood. Leaving the box and his untouched food behind, Yuugi stepped outside of the restaurant, ignoring the cries of the waitress behind him inquiring after about his forgotten lunch.

Once outside, he opened his eyes again, and took a long, deep breath. There was no getting out of this. He'd never forgive himself. Stuffing the note into his pocket, Yuugi kept going until he reached the alley sandwiched between a flower shop and a shoe store. He checked it, saw that it was clear, and proceeded cautiously among the shadows of the two buildings. The sudden pressure of something stiff pushing against his back stopped him dead in his tracks. He bit his lower lip, cast his eyes heavenward in a plea for strength, and took another quicker, shallower breath.

"What do you want?" he heard himself ask evenly.

"You," was the succinct reply. "Don't move."

Yuugi bit both of his lips silently in surprise when he felt a fold of cloth go over his head and eyes. He clenched his teeth tightly together to keep his rage and fear under control. Neither was going to serve him well if he didn't keep his head.

"Who are you?" In response, he was given an encouraging prod in the back. The man, as surely as the voice obviously belonged to one, instead of answering, grabbed one of his shoulders and helped him along, pushing him forward. He walked stiltedly at first before he caught up to the quick pace his captor wanted him to take.

"Let's just say, I'm nobody you want to screw around with." They stopped after walking perhaps five or six feet. Yuugi smelled exhaust and heard an engine running. "Get in." Another set of hands seized him from in front and pulled him forward. The backs of his legs encountered what felt like a car seat and summarized he was being shoved into the backseat of a vehicle. He heard the door slam and the person with the thing in his back – a gun most likely – settle in beside him. Yuugi smelled cigarettes. There was the presence of another on his left side as well; this was where the tobacco smell was coming from. The car pitched forward and Yuugi felt them moving.

"Am I going to be getting some answers soon?" Yuugi requested of the stale air around him, masking his fear.

A chorus of nasty laughs greeted his question. He counted four male voices: the driver, another man in the front passenger seat, and of course the two men flanking him in the back seat.

"You'll get your answers soon," explained the holder of the gun steadily. "You just worry about keeping your mouth shut until we get there, Game King."

"Not so fast." That was the driver, judging from the direction of the voice. "Game King? This is the guy?"

"What, the hair didn't clue you in?" remarked the front seat passenger sarcastically. "How'd you get it to stick up like that anyway?"

Yuugi kept his chin up. "Will power."

The cigarette smoker chuckled and a gust of the stale smoke was blown into Yuugi's face. "What we've got ourselves here is a smart ass, guys." Yuugi strangled back a yelp when he felt a pinch in his backside before the man leaned in. "Behave yourself, pretty boy," he threatened in a foul hiss into the shell of his ear, "because I can think of all _kinds_ of ways to have fun with you."

A very real fear crawled along Yuugi's skin. His heart began to pick up and race.

"Aw," someone cooed, "somebody's in love."

"Shut the hell up." The gunman. "You're getting paid to drive, not to talk."

"Oooh." But the driver did fall silent.

Yuugi didn't know how long he was in the car or how far they went. When his phone rang, he knew that it had come to the one hour mark. It was most likely Shizuka calling him to see why he hadn't returned from his break. Immediately he felt the smoker grab at his belt and remove the mobile phone from it. Without delay the ringing stopped before, much to his horror, he heard a window being rolled down.

"You won't need this anymore."

That chilled him even more than anything they'd said or done before. It meant they had absolutely no intention of letting him go. _One way ticket_. He shivered imperceptibly.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," the gunman said almost cheerfully. He heard him riffling around with something, the tear of Velcro, the shuffling of objects being moved around. "It's going to be a while before we get there, and it's too bad we didn't bring any games along to pass the time." Pause. "Hold back his head, would you?"

Yuugi felt his hair seized, yanked, and his head bent back, exposing his throat. The second he felt the pressure of a needle, despite knowing it was a stupid thing to do, he yelled, and began to struggle frantically. The smoker grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back painfully.

"Stupid, you're supposed to cuff him first!"

Yuugi continued to struggle, clawing unsuccessfully at his blindfold with one hand, and kicking out with his legs. His captors hit, smacked and tore at him but they weren't able to get a good grip on him. He was vaguely aware of someone saying, "I'm pulling over, I can't drive with you morons playing grab ass back there!"

The car lurched to a halt so suddenly, Yuugi felt himself pitch forward and nearly wound up going between the front seats. A door opened and he felt himself get forcibly moved around until someone was sitting on his legs. He fought and bucked under their weight until his hair was seized and twisted so painfully he felt fibers come lose from his scalp. He was smacked in the face several times. Then he was flipped over on his stomach, his arms were again pulled with painful yanks behind him, and he heard the distinctive, dreaded sound of handcuffs being clicked into place.

The needle was back and instantaneously pricked and pushed through his skin. He froze stiff, not moving until it was removed. Immediately a spreading numbness shot down his neck and the rest of his body.

_Somebody help me!_ Yuugi screamed out desperately, silently, as his senses were robbed from him. _Please, someone hear me, please… _

He felt blackness swirl his mind into a confused blur and then his consciousness began to slip away. He let out a mournful hum of protest before his entire body went slack.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was out. Maybe it was days. Maybe it was only a few hours. Consciousness fought against his return, slipping out of his thin grasp like water through a sieve. He felt the tactile sensation of movement, of _being_ moved, voices, and muffled chatter, before he felt these noises fade into black. Phantom scents wafted under his nose, some stale, some foreign, almost pleasant. His heart smiled and reached for the scent was familiar, and so close to him; it was a tender, lovely fragrance that used to make him feel safe once upon a time. It was _his_ scent. Sometimes he could remember waking up and thinking he could even smell the spirit on his clothes. Longingly he reached out, grasping at the fading tendrils, crying wordlessly when they too slipped away from him.

_Come back, oh god,_ please _come back…_

Then there was a bitter metallic, smoky smell. It stuck pungent and greasy to the roof of his mouth, like motor oil. A kind of stickiness drenched his skin like some sort of macabre cologne until he faintly recognized it was his own sweat. Briefly he fathomed a mind-blasting impression, sinking its claws into his brain like a falcon, clear as the sharp, painful glare of daylight in eternal darkness, before he gasped awake.

"_Mou hitori no boku_…!" he choked, shooting up, before a stabbing pain between his eyes caused him to hunch over on himself in pain. _Oh my head…!_ When he opened his eyes and came to grips with himself, he took his hands away from his chest where he had instinctively tried to grab something that hadn't been there for a long time now. Memories swirled in a fog in his head before they righted themselves into their proper annals. He remembered he'd been lured out of the café by a threatening note, forced into a car, and then drugged unconscious. Now he here he was, oddly unfettered, sitting… sitting, um, ur… Well, he was definitely _sitting_.

_Where am I?_

Yuugi glanced around as he slowly, and carefully, got to his feet. Right away he hazarded that he was in a basement of some sort. He could tell by the small rectangular windows near the ceiling, what little light that there was pouring in through them. There was also the typical clutter one might expect of a cellar i.e. car parts, lawn supplies, folded deck chairs. It was stacked with cardboard boxes from floor to ceiling, a washing machine, and a dryer occupied one corner, and there were a couple of unused mattresses propped up against the dingy gray far wall. A pervasive musky odor, like that of coal and incense, hung in the air.

He had only just comprehended his surroundings when a rising commotion above alerted him. It was coming from behind the door at the top of the basement staircase. Hesitating, Yuugi tentatively took a few steps close to the bottom stair and watched the door in apprehensive expectancy. He jumped when the door was suddenly flung open and someone was shoved inside with brutal force. The door slammed behind him, leaving whoever it was sagging against the wooden stair rail. He turned briefly to the door and banged on it furiously with his fist.

"Who the hell do you people think you are?" he bellowed. "You can't do this! Let me out of here NOW!"

Yuugi's mouth fell open when he recognized, even in the dismal gloom, the dice earring dangling from the other man's ear. When the man sensed someone behind him, he stopped whacking on the door, and turned to look down at the foot of the stairs. His brilliant green eyes widened in absolute shock.

"_Yuugi?"_

It was Otogi Ruuji.

The creator of Dice Monsters took the stairs two at a time, before stopping before the shorter man, still staring in disbelief at him. "What are _you_ doing here?" he blurted.

_Story of our lives, I guess._ Yuugi shook his head. "I don't know." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to Otogi. "I got this note saying if I didn't do what I was told they would kill my mother, and then this guy just grabbed me and shoved me into a car. The next thing I know, I'm being knocked out with a drug in a syringe." Fearfully, he paused. "I take it the same thing happened to you too?"

Otogi glanced absentmindedly back up at the door again. "Sort of. I was taking a nap on my couch when suddenly someone put a rag smelling like chloroform over my nose and mouth. Before I knew it, I was being dragged out of the car, hustled through this house, and then I'm being shoved down here." He spoke through clenched teeth, deeply pissed, making shaking fists with his hands. "I thought at first they were just kidnapping me because I had money but that doesn't explain why _you're_ here."

"I work for Kaiba," Yuugi pointed out reasonably with calm he did not feel. "Maybe they plan on using me as a hostage?" He shook his head, tossing out the notion. "They're barking up the wrong tree. Kaiba won't deal with scum for a beta tester who doesn't even work for him full-time."

Otogi started at what his friend said, and then, absorbing it, slowly shook his head with a small smile. "Yuugi, you continually underestimate your worth, you know that?"

"_Somebody_ obviously doesn't." Yuugi pointed at the ceiling for emphasis. He ignored Otogi's proclamation. "Did you manage to overhear anything useful on your way here?"

"No." Otogi hastily wiped away the sweat that was running into his eyes. The eyeliner dripped down his cheeks in two thin twin river lines of black. It was extremely warm in the cellar. "You?"

_Well… shoot_. Yuugi scratched the back of his neck where the sweat was making the collar of his shirt stick to his skin. "They know I'm the King of Games. But I don't think that has anything to do with why I was abducted." He shrugged. "There are plenty of crack gamers out there."

His old high school friend with the black pony tail didn't seem convinced. He shoved his thumbs into his pockets and hunched his shoulders together. "They take your phone too?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah. I think they threw it out of the car."

"Well, crap."

They fell silent again and just stood there in the dim gloom of the basement. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait around much longer. The door at the top of the stairs opened to admit four men with hand guns. They descended swiftly and wasted no time in surrounding the two helpless young men, both of whom instantly put his hands up in surrender. All six stayed that way for endless, breathless seconds.

"I must say," declared a new voice at the top of the stairs, causing Yuugi and Otogi to look up again. A dark figure in a long coat stood in the doorway, briefly silhouetted by light, before it began its descent, speaking all the way. "It continually surprises me how easily you managed to thwart me at every opportunity in the past, yet one threatening word against Mommy makes you as malleable as clay from the banks of the River Nile."

His cavernous, malevolent voice was chillingly familiar to Yuugi – too familiar. It was like the memory of a nightmare one had forgotten, but could still be felt even after waking up. His stomach began to churn. From the corner of his eye, he could see Otogi exchange with him too a quick horrified flicker of recognition as well.

As he got off the last step, he reached up, and yanked on a string, switching on a row of lights. His hands slid to his coat pockets, and he simply stood there, throwing his shoulders back, completely at ease. He smirked when Yuugi and Otogi gasped; the audible sound of air going backward nearly as if they were sucking the last of the oxygen out of the room.

"Really, Yuugi," he drawled, "did you really think you could rid of me _that_ easily?"

And with that, Bakura threw back his head, and laughed.


	19. The Return of the Thief King

"**The Return of the Thief King"**

Yuugi and Otogi stood frozen in abject silence. Neither man was able to believe what he was looking knew it could not have been anyone else. The Ryou Bakura they knew was a mild-mannered, slightly loopy, yet ultimately gentle young man, with a disarming smile that Jounouchi had once called, "Just one twitch shy of saccharine."

_He _never _would have done this. _

Since the Ceremonial Duel, the last Yuugi had heard of former host of the Millennium Ring, he'd disappeared off the map for a little while. After high school, he had found work at a rather prominent travel agency and was constantly being transferred around the country. Eventually he moved out of Japan altogether. Up until only last month, Yuugi had received frequent e-mails from him, and none of them had indicated the return of the malevolent spirit. On the other hand, Yami Bakura could be a master of deception when he wanted to be. It undoubtedly explained the surprising lapse in his friend's correspondence with him. At one time, this had had alarming connotations, since it usually meant that Yami Bakura was up to some mischief. Save for the final duel four years ago, Yuugi and everyone else, thought Yami Bakura had passed along into the netherworld to join his demonic counterpart. That's why Yuugi hadn't been alarmed.

_The nightmares that go on in the world that we don't know about… and one of them is standing right in front of me._

Yami Bakura shifted his tapering snake's gaze between the thunderstruck young men. A twisted smirk turned his slight lips upward. "I have to say," he began, "this little reunion of ours is rather disappointing. Where are the dropping jaws and promises of violent retribution?" He walked around Yuugi, of whom he seemed especially interested in menacing. "That was the prevue of Pharaoh, after all." He leaned in and whispered from behind. Yuugi physically restrained from leaping out of his skin at the sudden hot gust of breath on the back of his neck. "But since you _are_ the weaker half, it _is_ possible I was expecting too much." He stepped around Yuugi suddenly, swiftly, until their faces were barely two breaths apart. "Too bad for you, hmm?"

For the first time in his life, Yuugi dearly wanted to punch the man's lights out. Only the fact that he inhabited the body of a very good friend of his prevented the impulse from becoming a reality.

Oblivious to the conflicting impulses going on within Yuugi, Yami Bakura took a light step back, ignoring the black look he received in lieu, grinning mawkishly at the equally baleful look Otogi shot him, before he continued. "Luckily for me, the old godhead never came into his own. You see, _he - _" he poked Yuugi hard in the chest with one finger " - wanted to die. (Thanks for helping with that by the way). I, on the other hand, did not." He opened his jacket and proudly displayed his chest, covered surreptitiously by a white shirt with blue horizontal stripes. "There are more ways around death than even he could have imagined."

Yuugi stared, gazing from it, to Bakura, and back to it several times. His stomach began to churn when he realized what it was he was looking at – or rather what he _wasn't_ looking at. "How is this possible?" he exclaimed, speaking for the first time since Bakura had arrived. An awful, painful thought occurred to him. "Were you just pretending to be Ryou this whole time? Is… Is the real Ryou dead?"

"Yes… and no." Bakura chuckled, thrilling at his twice over rejoinder. "Ryou is still, of course, the main host and owner of this body. I can't do anything about that until the body is killed. So I exist in a _tiny_ little corner of his mind." He pinched a small amount of space between his forefinger and thumb to demonstrate. "From my little brain niche, I've learned how to influence his actions so he _believes_ they are his own. It wasn't necessary for me to take over completely anymore. Well, until now that is." He shrugged carelessly. "It _is_ amazing how much of the human brain isn't used. I simply exploited a flaw in biology." At the incredulous reaction of his captives, Bakura choked back his laughter in an amused snort. "What, did you think I spent all of my time when I possessed the whelp _only_ planning out Zorc's resurrection and playing Shadow Games?" He laughed. "While your precious other self was rubbing my defeats in my face, I was already planning ten moves ahead of him. In the end, it turns out, I only had to wait."

"To wait?" Otogi finally spoke up, narrowing his gaze angrily. "Wait for what? To try to destroy the world again?"

"In a way." Bakura motioned for his men take a few steps back so they weren't crowding him in too close to the other two. "After all, in my original incarnation, my entire world had already been burned to the ground in the ashes of Kul Elna. Unleashing Zorc Necrophades was, oh, a violent form of therapy. It worked rather well for a while there. Of course, I didn't take into consideration that the Living Horus, even clueless as he was, could still whip my ass." He spread his arms in a mild gesture of concession. "As they used to say in Egypt: 'Only a Master can point the way.'"* Yuugi smiled, although it was short-lived as Bakura merely sneered back at him. "Oh I wouldn't gloat, midget. The tables have been turned."

Bakura gave Otogi's pony tail an abrupt yank hard enough to make the man cry out, before the former Thief King released him again. Otogi rubbed at the sore spot, silently glaring. Bakura smirked. "If the both of you cooperate, this will go easy for you. If you do not, well, I won't be held responsible for what happens to your friends and families." He grinned evilly. "I'm going to leave _that_ job to you."

Bakura stopped circling his captives and returned to standing before them, hands comfortably back in his pockets. "Of course, I won't expect either of you to just cooperate on my say-so. I need to… initiate you first." He nodded to his men. Two took hold of Otogi and the other two seized Yuugi. They struggled briefly before giving in to the fact they weren't going anywhere and their bodies slouched in defeat. "Over my long years in hiding and planning, I have learned about the various ways a person can be broken," Bakura went on lazily. "Of most particular interest to me have been the methods that do not leave a mark on the body."

He smiled thinly, enjoying his newfound power, getting up close and personal first in Otogi's face, and then Yuugi's. He lingered, looking into the violet depths of Yuugi's eyes, and seemed to relish what he saw in there. "Oh I am going to enjoy this in ways you cannot imagine, little Yuugi Mutou," he whispered, his voice shaking with barely bridled enthusiasm. Yuugi's eyes widened and the blood drained out of his face. _Oh no,_ he thought despairing, _oh nononono…_

Drawing away again, he turned to his men. "This is where it begins, guys. We need to do this quick and we need to do this right," he instructed in a chillingly business-like tone. "I do _not_ want anyone to suspect that these two are alive. Go."

If Yuugi didn't think he was terrified before, at that moment, the word _fear_ took on a whole new meaning. As Otogi and Yuugi were being hauled up the basement stairs, yelling and struggling, he shouted back with a venom and hatred he never thought he could feel. "Y-You bastard! You… _You can't possibly think you can get away with this!_"

Yami Bakura just lifted a hand and waved smugly after them. "But I _have_ already gotten away with it."

* * *

"Um, you might want to rethink that trap card."

Plainly irritated, Sarah glanced up from the five cards in her hand, and then at the card she had placed face down on the table. The corner of her mouth betrayed just a hint of movement, unsure of whether or smile or frown. "I didn't give you that deck as a pretext to nag me," she told him in a gentle matter-of-fact tone. "Besides how do you know what I placed on the field?"

Atem winked. "Trust me. I _know_."

Oh brother. She didn't need to say it to know she was thinking it. Sarah blew out a sigh noisily through her lips, laboriously picked the card back up, and put it back into her deck. "So along with being a representative of Re incarnate, His Majesty is also psychic," she muttered under her breath. "Is there nothing you can't do?" The former pharaoh of ancient Egypt simply smiled at her over the top of the tan hand supporting his chin. "Don't answer that."

"I was not planning to."

"Oh you were." Sarah shuffled her deck, showing off a little by shuffling with an expert flair that caused even Atem's eyebrows to rise, impressed. "I can see the wheels turning in that unconventional head of yours. You have a comeback for everything. Why should I expect any less?"

"I am flattered you think so highly of me."

A significant pause passed before Sarah nodded at the dueling field. "Shut up and duel me."

Atem's eyes narrowed in gleeful challenge and he placed a card down. Sarah looked at it, then at him, before, without breaking eye contact, slapped down her own card. His eyes looked down at her issue, and then back up into Sarah's blue eyes. "You _really_ do not want to do that."

She smiled bitchily, unable to help herself. "I think I do," she said sweetly. "Play me, pharaoh-boy."

A flicker of dismay flashed in his eyes as he realized his stoic façade had been seen through. Conceding, he reported his loss of points, before ending his turn. "I thought you said you have never played Duel Monsters before this day."

"I haven't."

"But you possess a duelist's instinct."

Sarah smiled as he watched her mentally tally up her points. "When I was a student, I used to host poker games in college until the dean found out and ordered me to stop." She took another card from her hand and placed it into play. "Personally, I think everyone was secretly relieved. The students were losing _way_ too much pocket money because of me."

Atem leaned forward, interested. "You were good."

"Still am. Makes those hot boring days at some digs pass really quickly. Can I use this?"

"No."

"Okay." Sarah put the card back and studied the situation. "I'm losing," she finally decided calmly with a restrained detachment that nearly made him howl with laughter.

"It would appear that way."

For a long time, Sarah considered her cards, tapping her bottom lip delicately with the tip of one finger. "Is it because you're you and you always win or do I just suck at this game?"

He smirked. "Do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be honest?"

Sarah's mouth fell open, completely shocked. "_Atem!_"

Atem pretended false innocence and made a fake gesture of helplessness. "I am trying to help you. If you did not want me to teach you, you should have said so. If you do not lose sometimes, you will not know how to win."

"Is that another sound bite of Karnak's wisdom?" Sarah imparted wryly, although he knew she knew it wasn't. And he said so.

"No. I made that one up myself." He hovered around that thought as he took his turn. "Now that you mention it, I visited Karnak once as a boy with my father. I think I was five summers, I mean years, old. Much could not get done in the way of paying tribute to the gods, for in my childish pursuits, I had become lost for several hours. The entire day intended for worship was instead spent by the temple priests searching for me. By the end of Re's descent into the West, they found me." He chuckled warmly. "Oh but Father was livid. He slapped me right on the bottom and threatened to take away my birthright as Crown Prince." He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "That was also the same night Set put a dung beetle in my kilt, now that I think about it."

Sarah laughed. Sensing this was going to be another exciting anecdote for her book, she turned on the pocket sized voice recorder she had brought with her for this occasion and held it up. With some pleasure, he repeated his words, before she set the device down again, still recording. She slid into the interview easily as a body into a tub of warm water. "It must have been a beautiful place. Were the paintings still fresh? As in, did they still retain their color?"

Atem ran his finger thoughtfully along the edge of one card. "Some did. The place was already ancient by the time our dynasty pledged to partake of it. Sadly, any plans my father might have had for leaving his mark upon its columns, statues and walls, was cut short by his death. Later, I endeavored of a project of my own for eternity, yet before I was able to commission even one blue print, I too met my untimely end." He chuckled in spite of his morbid words. "Even pharaohs had to deal with the irritating reality of arbitrary circumstance." He cut a sigh and sat back in his chair. "As it pains for me to admit this, I am afraid the cursed Millennium Items will be our only claim to historical immortality."

"What about your father?"

Atem darkened. This was not a happy memory for him. "His tomb was robbed by Thief Bakura and looted of its riches." He absently brought his fist down upon the table, making the umbrella sticking up from its middle shake slightly with the force of the mild impact. "Then he destroyed it as an act of desecration against my father – and me."

"My god."

He looked away. "You do not even know the half of it."

Sarah gazed down at the gaming field, concluded their match wasn't going anywhere, other than to its inevitable conclusion, and put her hand over her deck. Atem chided her with a faintly disappointed expression, but kindly accepted her surrender. They gathered up their decks into two neat separate piles and moved on to concentrate on the interview. A light breeze picked up in the small picnicking area they had chosen to play their game, in front of an antique shop.

"Can you tell me about that?" she asked carefully.

"Not yet. I promise I will… It simply is not something I wish to discuss right now." Atem folded his arms over the top of the table. "There are more pressing things that I feel I need to tell you. Do you remember what I told you on the phone before you arrived in Cairo?"

Sarah nodded. "You said you needed to tell me something… something about not being entirely truthful with me." A cloud seemed to pass in front of her comely face and he felt a distance loom and then widen between them. "You better not be about to tell me what I'm hoping you're not about to tell me."

Atem's eyes widened. "No. I am who you think I am. I have not lied to you about anything. I promise you this upon the life you returned to me."

Sarah softened and the unconsciously rigid set of her shoulders relaxed. "Then what is it?" She almost jumped out of her chair when his hand shot across the table and covered her own paler one.

"I would not discuss it here. May we return to your hotel room? I would feel more at ease there."

Sarah stared back at him unblinkingly, before she slowly nodded, and reached for her purse.

* * *

_*from the ancient Egyptian proverb, "Experience will only show you, a Master can only point the way." This, and other ancient Egyptian proverbs can be found at www . aldokkan . com _


	20. Hikari

"**Hikari"**

It was raining.

There was a strange kind of poetic symbolism that it would choose to rain today, Sarah thought. It was no wonder why so many storytellers over the centuries were so obsessed with capturing its essence. There was just no right way to express everything that came into a person's heart when they experienced the natural phenomenon. A rainstorm could stir and inspire strong emotions, conflicting and contrasting. One either found the rain a nourishing source of renewal… or a drowning, sapping source of ruin.

She wondered which one it would be today.

The pair had returned to the hotel only an hour before the skies opened up. Atem had not spoken, having suddenly become preoccupied with watching the rain pelt sheets against the window pane. She took the opportunity to shower and change into something more comfortable, before emerging from the bathroom. Atem was still sitting by the window, chin cradled in his palm, gazing distantly into the down pour. He absently ran one slender finger over the edge of the deck of Duel Monster cards she had bought for him, neatly stacked beneath the light weight of his palm. His reaction to the gift had been a quick hug that was so unexpected, Sarah had to keep replaying the moment back in her head to be certain that it had really happened.

Sarah slowly and carefully sank down on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her, and the other out to balance her bare foot upon the soft brown carpeting. She smoothed the silky green hotel robe over her knees, before shrugging her damp hair behind her shoulders. "Atem?" she murmured cautiously, afraid to break the spell of his rainy reverie.

Atem's eyes gradually shifted, before his head followed, and finally their gazes met. For a long moment, he did not speak, and she said nothing herself. They simply watched one another. It seemed that even though he was looking at her, that it wasn't she he was seeing. Despite feeling as if she were filled to bursting, Sarah waited. He would speak when he was ready; when his mind returned from its passage afar.

He settled his head on his hand again, resting his elbow upon the edge of the table he sat beside. "I want you to know," he began softly, "that before I begin, in order for me to feel right about continuing our friendship, that you know everything there is to know about me. I know… that is how you feel yourself, I think." Quietly he took a deep breath and continued. "I have described to you my life as Pharaoh. There is still much for me to tell you about that life, and I will happily tell you whatever you wish to know." A brief pause ensued before he took the plunge.

"But there is more to that than what I have told you. Though I did die sealing Zorc, it was not Zorc who caused my death, not directly." Atem pointed to his chest. "The cost of ridding the world of Zorc Necrophades, and his evil, was my soul, my name, and… my very existence."

Atem wavered then, as if inundated by an inner swell of emotions, and took a second to compose himself again. "I did not go to the Western Lands," he spoke just above the sound of the deluge blasting against the window. Sarah had to lean in to catch his words. "Instead I chose eternal imprisonment within the Millennium Puzzle; it was the only way I knew to save what remained of what all that I loved from destruction. With the last breath that remained in my body, I shattered the golden pyramid. Later, its pieces were placed inside a golden box, and then sealed within my tomb. For 3000 years, it remained undisturbed beneath the sands of Egypt. At last, in the year of 1960, an adventurous man by the name of Sugoroku Mutou managed to make it far enough into my tomb to stumble upon the Puzzle and the box containing its pieces. He removed it and took it home with him to his native land… Japan."

It was at this point Sarah opened her mouth, weakly uttering, "But if that's true how…" It hit her. Suddenly everything became so clear. "The chain!" she exclaimed in a gasp cupped between her hands. "The chain on the Puzzle! It makes sense now!"

Atem appeared bemused by her outburst. He held up a placating hand. "That is getting a bit ahead of things, but yes, that is where the chain came from." He went on. "Sugoroku kept the box in the family, making several unsuccessful attempts over the interim to complete the Puzzle himself. All during the long while, he did not know it but…" there was a slight suggestion of the semi-sneeze of laughter, "he was not the right person. For a long time following, no one was." A hidden joy lit his normally iniquitous eyes. "It was only many years later, when Sugoroku was an old man, that he gave the Puzzle to his grandson, a shy, yet kind-hearted, sixteen year old boy named Yuugi Mutou. It was on one fateful night he was putting the Pyramid together, Yuugi was able to do what no one before him had been able to do: He had completed the Millennium Puzzle."

Here Atem paused to contain a short laugh as he relived the memory. "It was fortunate for him that he completed it when he did, for at that moment he was about to become a victim of the attentions of a particularly pernicious classmate." Something of a dark smirk curled up Atem's handsome mouth, the look giving him a sinful countenance that caused Sarah's stomach to churn uncomfortably. "Though it does shame for me to admit this, and despite all that came after, I do not regret what I did that very first time I possessed Yuugi's body. The torment writhing in the child's mind, and the unconscious hand he reached out to me as I felt the fetters of the suffocating darkness loosen…"

Atem closed his eyes, and she could see him savoring the nostalgia on his face. "I could not ignore his pain. I had no memories of whom or what I had been; those had eroded away with the centuries. But I knew that boy. He gave me freedom, so I gave him what he wanted – what he _needed_: protection. I was happy to oblige him this when I took over his body and mind." He opened his eyes and settled against the back of his chair. "Imagine knowing nothing but the body and the mind of another. Since I didn't know who or what I was, I simply decided I was Yuugi's other self: the _yami_ to his _hikari_, and for the longest time, I was content to leave things at that."

"Did he know about what was going on?" Sarah finally managed to ask, reluctant to interrupt the spell his story had cast upon them, yet the question could not be quelled.

He seemed undisturbed. "No. I… did not let him." Atem stopped smiling, shifting his eyes to the right. "I blocked him and secreted him away within his soul room. I kept his mind apart from mine and the door to my own soul room within the Puzzle closed at all times. When I let him back in control, he remembered nothing of what he had done, or where he had been." Atem lowered his chin guiltily, absently running his palm up and down his arm. "I… I was afraid he would shatter the Puzzle if he knew about me and what I was doing to the people that hurt him. I was finally free and I was _not_ about to let anyone lock me back into the darkness again." He gave a humorless chuckle and raked his fingers through his untamed forelocks and across his forehead. "Of course, I could not have been more wrong about him."

Atem lifted his head, and Sarah was surprised to see the spark of merriment on his face. "I underestimated him. Somehow Yuugi figured it out." He sat up a little more, his pride warming with a sort of affection. "One way or another, he got past my guards and figured out what was happening to him. I knew it because I started to feel him tap against me." He laid his hand over his heart to illustrate. "He was afraid, as I had known he would be, but he was also curious. He asked me who I was, what I was, and if we could please talk." He ran his hand over his face, snorting lightly, amused. "He actually said please."

Sarah rested her delicate chin upon her knuckles. "Yuugi sounds like a very polite young man." _And very much someone that I would be interested in talking with_, she added silently. There was no way she wasn't going to try to contact him about the Millennium Items. The things he probably knew would fill up several more chapters of her book at least.

"He was." Chuckle. "Painfully so, at first."

"_Did_ you ever speak?"

Atem shook his head. "Not at first." He grinned. "Naturally he proved me wrong again. _He_ started blocking _me!" _If Sarah didn't know any better, she would have sworn the former god king was delighted – he was practically coming out of his chair in his excitement. "Before long, he finally managed to send a very clear message to me: this was _his_ body and he was _not_ going to let me do whatever I wanted with it anymore. I was so impressed, I stopped taking over at will." Pause. "I admit he _had_ frightened me a little with that."

Sarah leaned forward eagerly. "What happened then?"

Atem smiled fondly. "It became a kind of unofficial symbiosis between us. We stopped blocking one another and just silently agreed when I could switch places with him. I was better at the Duel Monster card games that were such a fixture in his life at the time, so he willingly allowed me to duel in his place. Such it was for the best I did not bother coming out so much: I was not comfortable with his friends or his family. I could handle his opponents, though, and well enough." He smirked and folded his arms over his chest. "Pity for them."

The Egyptologist held up a hand, sensing an incongruity in his narrative. "Wait, back up. So if you were trapped in the Puzzle and came out to take over his body like some kind of Dark Mousy* wanna-be..." Atem laughed. "Where did you go when he took back control?"

"The Puzzle, and my soul room, which was also inside the Puzzle. You could say the artifact was my new body, albeit a very limiting one. Thankfully, once he completed it, Yuugi took to wearing it all of the time, even after he found out that was where I was coming from. As long as he wore it, it was like a door I could open and close at will. Yuugi always used to tell me it felt like being high on happy gas at the dentist in those moments when we switched. Yes, I thought it was funny too."

"So when did you two start talking, I mean _really_ talking? And how _did_ you talk?"

Atem brought his legs up and hugged his arms around them. "It was at a tournament at an island called Duelist Kingdom. We were competing against its sponsor, Pegasus, when Yuugi had an interesting idea…"

* * *

They talked long into the evening. Atem told Sarah everything: about the duels, his friends, his enemies, his former animosity with the Ishtar clan, his rivalry with Seto Kaiba, the Orichalcos stones and Doma, the God Cards, his exodus into the world of his memories, and finally the Ceremonial Duel that ended with his passage into the afterlife. It was exhausting for him to speak of it all – far too exhausting – but Atem could not hold back. He _needed_ to let it out; he _needed_ to put his experiences into words. He _needed_ to see the words Sarah was turning his memories into on the paper she wrote them upon when her tape recorder ran out. Perhaps it was a pervasive terror leftover from his days as Pharaoh, or even his time as a nameless spirit: of forgetting and being forgotten. He wanted to know that the world, that _someone_, knew he had been here, that he had lived, and it wasn't out of any sort of narcissistic need for recognition or attention. It was out of a very human need to know he had made his mark; that this time someone _would_ remember. He wanted people to know him, and strangely enough, he realized he wanted people to remember Yuugi too. Someone as amazing as Yuugi shouldn't disappear into the obscurity of time and history. He had been as great as any of the pharaohs of his time, and he could not let the memory of his kind heart and brave soul be forgotten.

"You really think a lot of Yuugi, don't you?"

They had moved to the bed and were lying side by side, gazing up at the ceiling together. The hotel had put a large mirror above the bed, so while they stared up at the ceiling, their reflections stared back at them. The soft yellow glow of the lamps to either side of the queen sized mattress were two tiny twin suns filling the room with a warm glow that seemed to go more than skin deep.

Atem smiled without turning his head since they could see each other's every expression without moving. "More than I could ever fully express in words," he replied softly.

Sarah shifted her head so that it touched his just barely. "Have you contacted him yet?"

"…No."

She sat up and looked down at Atem directly, completely astonished. "Why not?" Her voice pitched so high, she almost sounded like she was squeaking.

"I… I do not want to." Atem turned over on his side, away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

His friend's eyes narrowed. "Yes you do." He winced; he knew he couldn't pull one over on her. "Why won't you?" she demanded.

Atem pressed his cheek into the mattress. "My time in his life ended four years ago." His weak reply was almost muffled by the comforter. "What purpose would it serve to initiate contact now? I truly died the day I lost the duel and walked into the world beyond this one." Despite his best efforts, he choked. Swallowing with some difficulty, he sat up abruptly and took his startled companion's hands in his own. He needed her to understand him – somehow – however he could.

"He deserves to live his life without standing in my shadow," he spoke passionately. "He has what he needs to be happy. He would have wanted me to have a life of my own as much as I would have wanted one for him."

Sarah squeezed the hands holding hers and gave him a small smile. "And are you happy, Atem?" she asked him gently. "With a life of your own?"

Atem closed his eyes and opened them again, taking a quick breath, and letting it out, nodding. "I think so," he whispered when his mouth finally worked. _I want to be_. "There is so much to live for in this new life of mine. I cannot forsake the treasures of the present for the exquisiteness of the past." Unable to resist touching her any longer, he caressed the side of one pale cheek, and brushed away an errant strand of silvery blond hair behind the shell of her ear. "Only a man so blinded by his shadows would allow his heart to become consumed by them."

He didn't know which one of them started the kiss, yet the second their lips touched, he decided that it did not matter. Semantics as far as he was concerned. Nor did he know, or care, who tipped who first back against the cool sheets and the valley of the silken pillows; only that it felt nice, right, and proper to have a beautiful woman in his arms again. He certainly hadn't intended on seducing her, not tonight, although he would have been lying to himself to admit that this eventuality wasn't something he hadn't planned on. It was so hard to find a friend, or even a lover, he felt he could be himself around. Being Pharaoh had occupied every waking moment of his life. He had had to be a god even in the bedroom.

_Not anymore_. _I am a man now, and only that_... And with this knowledge, he completely let go.

Their first joining was quick, hurried, and rough. Atem was frantic with need - _gods_, it had been millennia since he'd been able to enjoy the passion and release of sex – and _good_ sex at that. On the phone, and even on their many conversations this past day, Sarah had not spoken of her personal life, beyond a vague reference to an ex-husband. The way she kept digging her nails into his upper arms and shoulders as they rocked back and forth said more than any words could have expressed. She was an endlessly affectionate lover, worshipping every surface of his body with her mouth, and he delighted in her attention. He couldn't help smirking in triumph as his gratitude for her libations resulted in many beautiful cries and whimpers in his ear.

Gradually Sarah tired and slipped into a contented, exhausted slumber, a little smile turning the corners of her lips up. Atem smiled down back at her and pulled the blanket over her unclothed body after the shine of perspiration had cooled and dried. Falling in beside her under the sheets, and crossing his arms behind his head, a very male grin of satisfaction stretched across his face, reflected back down at him from above.

_I have not felt this good since I kicked Kaiba's ass at Duel Monsters, _he thought._ Actually this is like every one of those times rolled up into one. _Briefly he wondered how the CEO was doing. _He is probably doing what he has always been best at: swimming around in his many millions of dollars and coming up with new ways to make games more technologically exciting._

He sucked in his breath when a musical ringtone went off in the dark silence of the room. Sitting up in bed, he cast his gaze around the room, searching for the source. His gaze finally alit on the noisy culprit: it was Sarah's mobile phone. It was lying on the night stand on her side of the bed. He reached over his lover's sleeping form and picked the phone up. His blood ran cold at the name on the screen.

_Anzu Mazaki_

Atem shook Sarah, but she didn't wake up, only made a soft grumbling noise, turned away from him, and reasserted her grip on the pillow under her head. Atem weighed the options a hundred and one times of answering before he rolled his eyes at himself, smacked his head once for his stupidity, and picked the phone up. "Hello? This is Sarah's phone."

Anzu sounded like she was crying. "Who is this?" she demanded around a sniffle. "Where's Sarah?"

Atem squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. "Sarah is sleeping right now. Can I take a message?"

"No!" Anzu wailed, causing him to wince and jerk away momentarily. "This is important, please; I need to talk to her."

"A-All right." He looked over at Sarah, who was already in the process of pushing with one arm to sit up, heeling at her eyes, and holding her other hand out for the phone. "Here. She is awake." He surrendered it to her, and fell back against his pillow with a relieved release of breath. That had been too close.

"Hello? Anzu?" Sarah felt around along the bed for her night gown and settled for the discarded robe at the foot of it when she couldn't find it in the moonlit darkness. "What's the matter? Oh my god. When?" There was a long pause while she tied the robe on and then just sat on the edge of the bed. "Slow down, sweetie, I can barely understand you," she tenderly admonished, turning around suddenly and nudging Atem in the side. He frowned and sat up, mouthing, "What?"

She covered the mouth piece. "It's about Yuugi," she mouthed back.

The color drained from Atem's face. For a moment, he thought his heart had stopped. Almost as if in a trance, he crawled numbly over the covers and sat close to Sarah so he could listen to the conversation.

"… so I'm heading back to Domino on the first flight in the morning," Anzu was saying. "Mrs. Mutou is hysterical. Jounouchi is staying with her but," Anzu's voice filled with fresh tears, "oh Sarah, it's _terrible_! The police told us a witness said he had seen a man make Yuugi get into a car at gun point and that they found his mobile phone shattered in pieces on a country road outside of the city! And if that wasn't bad enough, my other friend Otogi is gone too! He didn't show up for work yesterday either!" Anzu was sobbing again, and they could hear her blowing her nose. "Nobody knows what's going on or why or who took them. I'm so scared, Sarah. Mandy is coming over to take care of my apartment, get our mail and stuff while I'm gone. I don't know when I'll be coming back. I just wanted you to know so that when you come back, I…I…"

"Anzu! It's okay!" Sarah spoke quickly, interrupting her roommate softly. "I'll take care of our place while you're gone, don't you worry. You go be with your friends. I know Yuugi would appreciate your being there for his mother." Sarah covered her face with her hand, trying to keep her cool together, aching from being helpless to do anything for her friend.

But it was nothing compared to Atem, who trembled violently, with his forehead resting on Sarah's shoulder. He was fighting to restrain from screaming aloud his rage and anxiety. "I'm sorry I'm not there, Anzu," she went on desperately. "Listen, I'll call the airline tomorrow, okay, so that way I can leave…"

"No!" Anzu almost shouted, so loudly it startled both of them. "Please don't cut short your visit because of me. I won't forgive you if you do. I'll call you tomorrow, I promise. In fact, I'll call you every day. Please just… for me, please…"

"I will. I promise." Sarah fisted the sheets in her hand. "I will, just _you_ be safe, for _me_. Tell me the moment anything changes."

"I promise. Oh Sarah," Anzu sniffled, almost wailing, "who would _do_ this? Yuugi never hurt a soul in his life, why him?"

"I don't know, Anzu." Sarah wrapped one arm around Atem who had now curled up and was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was barely aware of their conversation until he heard her say good bye and felt her fully wrap both of her arms around him. Gradually he emerged from his panic paralysis, unfolded from her embrace, and grabbed his pants from where they had been discarded on the floor.

"I have to tell Malik," he heard himself saying, speaking much faster, and more shakily, than he normally did. "He'll know what to do, he'll know, he has to know…" He was shaking so badly, the slick smooth phone fell from his hand, and he fumbled, nearly falling to the floor trying to recover it. Sarah gently seized his shoulders and pulled him back into a close embrace. He thought he heard her faintly consoling him and he didn't realize that the person crying and moaning in grief was him.

"All is not lost yet." Sarah pulled away to wipe away his tears for him, her blue eyes cold and icy with determination as she gripped his shoulders. "He could still be alive. You can't give up on him yet. He wouldn't give up on you, right?"

Atem nodded, feeling a sick smile turn the corners of his mouth up. "No. No, Yuugi would not. He would try to find me. He would hold on to hope against all of the odds. I have to do the same for him." He slid out of the bed and reached for his pants again, this time to put them on. "I cannot hope to help Yuugi in this way by simply watching and waiting. I must return to the Ishtars and do what I can to help find him." He looked back at Sarah, who too had gotten out of bed. He watched her move around the room, picking up her belongings, and dragging her suitcase out from under the bed. He was confused at her movements. "By the gods, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm coming with you." When he opened his mouth to protest, the archeologist held up her palm, stopping him. "No buts. You have no say in this. Now keep getting dressed."

"But…" he protested feebly, spreading his hands out beseechingly. "Your holiday…!"

Sarah made a rude noise. "…Is over," she finished. "Besides, I came here to be with _you_, not just to tour Cairo and gawk at the Pyramids."

A smirk tugged on Atem's face and threatened to become a smile. Was it any wonder why he was alive now, if not for this stubborn woman? "Where would I be without you?"

"In a sarcophagus buried under the desert," was the ready reply. Sarah paused in the middle of getting dressed to put one hand on her hip. "Look, I know I'm sexier than hell, and as much I love looking at you with your shirt off too, we don't have time for this right now. Now move it, Pharaoh!"

Atem wasn't normally one who allowed anyone to push him around, let alone a woman, yet he found himself obeying her, with the widest possible grin stretching across his face. With friends like these, he couldn't imagine how he wouldn't be able to find Yuugi.

_Hang on, aibou!_ he called out to him across the sands and the oceans separating them. _I lost you like this once before and I found you… and I'll do it again! I believe in you too. _

_I always have._

* * *

_*Dark Mousy is a protagonist of an anime called _D.N. Angel_ that has a similar story line about two boys sharing the same body and switching back and forth_


	21. I Want to Go Back to Believing

"**I Want to Go Back to Believing In Everything"**

Time has a way of stopping when something important is lost. Every day flows into the next in an endlessly efficient homogeny. It's the same as the day before that and the day before that with the only thing seeming to change being the days on the calendar growing further away from the last day life was normal, when things used to matter and make sense. When the world shone brightly with a light called Yuugi Mutou.

Now the world was so dark, Jounouchi wondered how it was still possible for the sun to continue to keep coming up every day. Didn't it know that a world without Yuugi in it was no kind of world at all? No kind of world he knew where he had to watch his best friend's mother live each day to the next like a prisoner waiting for her executioner to appear at her front door. He should have gone back to his own place after that first day, but he couldn't bear the thought of Mrs. Mutou staying in that house all by herself; he couldn't stomach the thought that if he were to leave, it would be the same as stabbing Yuugi in the back. So he took the guest room across from Yuugi's, and settled in for the long haul.

And a long haul it was turning out to be.

Anzu had shown up at the front door, luggage hanging and straining off of one shoulder. Neither of them spoke a word when Jounouchi opened the door to the house and saw the pretty, long-limbed, short-haired brunette standing there. He took note of the expression on her face, reflected by his own, and he crumpled inside as if he'd known when _she_ didn't know.

"Jounouchi…" Anzu dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Jounouchi slowly reached up and embraced her back, moving aside as Honda moved by her to bring the rest of her baggage across the threshold.

At last, Anzu slid down, releasing her friend, and looked around. "Where's Mrs. Mutou?"

"She's in the kitchen." Was that his voice sounding so dead and lifeless? It sure didn't sound like it belonged to him. Watching Anzu go, Jounouchi tricked gazes with Honda, who was in the middle of setting his female friend's things down. "How was it?"

Honda sat down heavily on the couch. He was still wearing his paramedic uniform. "Bad." He briefly ran one hand over his face and looked up at his fellow former gang member. "You canceled your tournament appearance in Tokyo." It was not a question, nor a recrimination.

Jounouchi shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I wouldn't have been able to concentrate." He grinned without heart. "Lady Luck doesn't like me when I'm not on my best game, after all."

"Heh." A corner of Honda's mouth twitched up in a mild hint of amusement. "Too bad I don't have that luxury. People are going to keep getting hurt no matter what hits the fan for the rest of us." He sighed. "Don't suppose anything's changed in the last three hours I've been to the airport and back?"

"No."

Honda nodded, having expected that. "You call anyone else? Kaiba? Ryou?"

"Kaiba, yeah." Jounouchi flinched, revealing what must have happened in that exchange. "Ryou, no. It's so weird. It's like the guy doesn't exist. His e-mail address doesn't work, his phone's been disconnected, and the land lord of the last place we knew that he lived at said the guy hasn't been home in months."

Honda grew alarmed. "Do you think that has anything to do with Yuugi's or Otogi's disappearances?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't rule it out." Jounouchi began to pace, too agitated to stay in one place. "The fact Ryou has been missin' for a longer period of time and none us knew about it scares me somethin' real bad. When's the last you talked to him?"

Honda shrugged. "Couple months ago. Yuugi talked to him more than the rest of us. You?"

"Nada." Jounouchi stopped, staring out the window. "Shizuka's out poundin' the pavement puttin' fliers up all over the city." He glanced back at his friend, and Honda saw the anguish in his eyes. "What the hell is goin' on here, Honda? Who'd we piss off? It doesn't make any sense for this to be happenin'."

Honda spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Does it ever make any sense when a loved one goes missing?" he countered softly. "I said some coarse things to Otogi the last time we talked," he said ruefully after several moments of substantial silence had passed. "I'm scared I'll never get a chance to apologize to him." He let out a profound breath when Jounouchi rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Man, you couldn't have known."

"I know that. I guess it doesn't matter, huh." Honda shook his head. "I wasted so much time fighting with him over Shizuka instead of being his friend." A snort of self-disgust issued from his throat. "What the hell are we, still in high school? You would have thought my first clue was the fact he doesn't play ball with me over that anymore; hasn't in years. He won and I couldn't accept it."

"Honda…"

Hearing the gentle admonishment in Jounouchi's voice, Honda closed his mouth and managed a slightly rueful grin. "Gah, what am I going on about." He pushed up and got to his feet, his movements energized with new purpose. "I'm going to put up some fliers too and ask around some of our old gang haunts. I've got some clout with some of those guys maybe I can shake down something the police don't know about already."

Jounouchi thought it was a fantastically bad idea. Naturally he did nothing to discourage him. "Want me to come with you?" he offered.

Honda laughed. "Nah. You left some of those guys in pretty bad shape the last time. But thanks. Besides, I'm a paramedic. If anything goes down, I can patch myself up."

Jounouchi was about to protest, when a noise in the kitchen gave him pause. This wasn't the time or the place to be having it out over what methods they should or should not use to find their friends. If it took Honda knocking a few skulls together in the back alleys of bad neighborhoods, he was going to be the last person to stop him.

"All right," he conceded, yet laid off with a jab of the finger stabbing in his friend's direction, "but you better call me if things get hairy, and that's an order, man, _not_ a suggestion." He cuffed Honda in the arm to emphasize his point – not hard enough to hurt, not gentle enough to be mistaken for a friendly nudge. "I'll stay 'round here and help Anzu settle in. I just overheard Mrs. Mutou tell Anzu to head upstairs, so I'm guessing the three of us are all goin' to be housemates for a while."

Honda made a face. "Aren't you the stud?"

"Shut up." But Jounouchi was smiling. "Take care."

"I always do."

Had it really been two weeks since they had had that conversation? It felt longer... years longer. _Damn, I can't be doin' this, countin' the days, it's going to drive me crazy._ Jounouchi exhaled loudly, staring at the ceiling from where he lay on the bed in the guest room, too exhausted to move, too wired to fall into the blessed sleep his body sorely needed. In spite of the fliers and the man power being exerted, not a single clue to the whereabouts of their two friends had surfaced. It was as if Yuugi and Otogi had disappeared off the face of the earth where they stood. The surveillance footage pulled from the Domino Café combined with a waitress's eye witness statement was the only clues they had of the moments prior to Yuugi's disappearance. Yuugi had crumbled a piece of paper in his hand and taken off very quickly. It could have only been minutes or even seconds later that he had been grabbed. No doubt Otogi had vanished in a similar fashion. His apartment showed evidence of a break-in by someone having picked the lock.

_It would be the one time Otogi didn't use the chain lock on his door. _It was frightening how forgetting to do just one simple little thing could procure the most dire of consequences.

Closing his eyes, Jounouchi turned over on his side and focused on that thought. The police said Otogi's apartment showed no signs of a struggle, which meant he had to have been taken by either someone he knew, or another possibility, he might have been drugged. Heck, it could have been both. Jounouchi frowned as a disquieting notion occurred to him.

Had the both of them gotten way in over their heads in something neither may have known about until it was too late to get out? It happened to them in the past. But not like _this_, with nothing to go on, and none of them knowing anything.

_Of course, that's what the cops _want_ us to think. _

That was it. The police didn't tell the families, or the friends, squat until the missing persons were found or new leads popped up. From his gang experiences, he knew better than to just march into the nearest station and yell up a storm for them to share with them what they weren't telling.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bounded down the stairs, and grabbed his sneakers. Anzu was passing through the room and stopped short when she saw her friend sitting on the bottom stair tying his shoes. "Where are you going?"

"To Kaiba Corp."

"Kaiba Corp?" she repeated, surprised. "What for?"

Jounouchi looked up at her and smirked. "To try to see if we're gettin' the whole story 'bout our friends. Wanna come?"

Anzu responded by pilfering her purse from the closet by the front door. "My car is out back. Want to call Honda?"

"Not yet. I want to be sure this doesn't turn out to be a waste of our time before I start callin' people."

Anzu chewed on her lip thoughtfully. That made sense. _Whoa!_ She swiftly reached out to intercept Jounouchi's hand as he spied, and tried to seize, a ring of keys lying on the coffee table. "Ah-uh," she negated, squeezing her fingers over his pointedly. "_I'm_ driving."

"Aw, c'mon Anzu!" he whined.

If a gaze could freeze a man cold, hers certainly came close to the prize. "'Aw, Anzu' nothing." She successfully wrested the keys from his dying grasp. "Honda just rented this car for me and I plan on keeping it in one piece, thank you."

"A _rental_?" He blurted, as he followed her outside and around to the back of the shop. He hadn't even known she could drive. "On wha… Hot damn!" Jounouchi lit up and whistled as he bounded over the last several steps to the shiny brand new green sports car. He checked the rear bumper and grinned. "Shee-it, a Mercedes-Benz!" He was genuinely impressed. "Our little Anzu is moving up in the world!" He ignored the twisted scowl she threw him as both slid into the vehicle. "You've gotta let me drive it at least once before you return it."

Hiding a smile, Anzu pursed her lips, and made a show of adjusting her rearview mirror. "Not if you were the last driver on earth."

He pouted. "New York has sure made you mean…er." He winced and grabbed it when she punched him in the bicep, digging her bony knuckles in hard. "Yeeee-ouuuch! Is today Beat Up Jounouchi Day, or did you jus' get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Anzu didn't answer. She stared straight ahead, keeping her eyes on road. The expression on her face said it for her, and the annoyance Jounouchi felt toward her began to ebb. He preoccupied himself with the passing scenery outside of his passenger side window.

Of course, he should have been one of the first to see it, if not _the_ first. They'd been friends for nearly seven years; he more than most of the men in the girl's life understood. If there was anyone in their gang that held Yuugi the closest to her heart, it was Anzu. She'd known Yuugi since they'd shared a pre-school and numerous childhood birthday parties. More so, she'd been Yuugi's first real friend. She was the first one to see him as more than a little dork who loved games more than he did normal high school social interaction. For Anzu, he had been a great friend she could always confide in who would never turn against her, badmouth her, or close the door in her face.

As had he had been for Jounouchi. And now Yuugi was gone, stolen from them by some jerk who thought he could get away with it. If experience had taught Jounouchi anything was that jerks know other jerks. That was why they were pulling into the parking lot of the building owned by the biggest one he knew.

After cutting the engine, Anzu turned in her seat and rested an elbow on the wheel. Jounouchi paused in reaching for the door, sensing she was about to speak.

"What do you think Kaiba knows?" she asked. "I mean, what do you think _he_ would know that the police wouldn't know?"

Jounouchi shrugged. "Honestly? I don't think he knows anythin' worth a damn." He pushed the door open and got out. He spoke across the roof of the car to Anzu as she followed suite. "But if there's one of us who can see the bad apples before the rest us can, it's him. Yuugi is prob'ly the only honest person who's ever worked for the guy, besides his kid brother. That's gotta be a hard asset for him t' lose. Plus, you also gotta figure in how Kaiba is about these kinda things. He ain't going to admit Yuugi's his friend t' anyone." He jerked a thumb at the building. "That all said I wouldn't put it past dragon boy to start lookin' in the places the cops miss. An' I'm also willin' to go out on a limb and say he ain't sharing what he knows until he's ready to do somethin' 'bout it."

Anzu eyed the building skeptically and glanced back at her friend. "Either you and Kaiba made up and didn't tell me or you're expecting _way_ too much from him. I know I would be. Still…" She tilted her head to the side and jingled her keys before tossing them into her purse. "It's worth checking out. It's better than just sitting around at home waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Jounouchi grinned. "Now that's the spirit."

Together, they began heading toward the building.

"So you hear from that Sarah friend of yours lately?" he asked, just to pass the time until they reached the inner lobby. "She back from Egypt yet?"

Anzu folded her arms over her chest, as much from worry, as it was from the building's cool air conditioning. "I called her before I left New York to let her know I'd be out of the country. She wanted to come back early but I told her no." A slight smirk flitted across her lips. "Her sexy boyfriend picked up when I called."

Puzzled, Jounouchi pursed his lips together. "Boyfriend?"

Exasperated sigh. "You know the one I told you about? The Egyptian guy she met at the dig?"

Frowning, Jounouchi shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't like hearing about the dig. He'd thrown his shoes at the television screen when he'd first heard of the horrible news about Atem's tomb. Dammit, that guy had saved the freakin' _world_, and now he wasn't even going to be allowed his eternal rest? Talk about getting short changed! "Oh yeah," he muttered darkly. "Her boy toy."

She was horrified. "Jounouchi!"

"She's _thirty-three_, Anzu. He's what, you said, twenty-four?"

Anzu glared at him. "Mai is ten years older than you too. So unless you like being the pot calling the kettle black, I suggest you shut up."

Flinching, Jounouchi did that, and thankfully just in time too. The receptionist had spotted them and was launching into full on glee mode with all of the pert, shiny, bubbly artificiality that went along with her trade. He suspected she had probably been some kind of bird in her last life; one of those small, flighty, really hyper ones that constantly kept hopping around. She was sickeningly friendly, sickeningly helpful, and by the time they were done getting directions from her, Jounouchi found himself glancing around for the nearest men's room.

"Anymore of that and I think I woulda been dead," he muttered under his breath when they were finally able to escape her and taken refuge behind an elevator door. "Obviously it ain't true what scientists have been sayin' about ingestin' too much saccharine. It don't kill everybody." He gasped and jerked away from his friend, rubbing his arm from where she had delivered her second blow of the day. "Seriously, Anzu. Not appreciatin' this abuse."

"Well, _I'm_ not appreciating your bad humor, so I suppose that makes two of us."

"Dammit Mazaki…"

Anzu gripped the strap of her purse tightly and pressed it against her hip as the elevator began its ascent. "Just let it go. We've got more important things to be worried about right now."

Nothing sobered up the professional card player than that sentence. "Sorry," he mumbled, staring at the floor between his sneakers. "I'm just…"

"I know."

"What if he's…"

"No."

"Anzu…"

The daggers she threw at him with her eyes closed his mouth and he couldn't bring himself to look at her anymore. He bit his lower lip and chewed on the inside of his cheek before perking up when the elevator cheerfully _dinged!_ and the doors slid open, signaling the end of their journey.

"Before we go in there, I would really appreciate it if you skipped your usual pissing contest," Anzu hissed to him quickly as they approached the single room at the end of the corridor that led to Kaiba's office. "I know you two just _love_ exchanging sweet nothings, but try to restrain yourself this time."

You'd have thought from the way she was talking it had been _her_ idea to come here. Jounouchi glared at her, speaking through clenched teeth. "The hell you tellin' _me_ for? That bastard always is the one always startin' shit with me!"

"Exactly." Anzu knocked the advised three times the receptionist downstairs had told them, and then turned the door knob when Kaiba hit the buzzer to let them in. "You don't always _have_ to get in the last word."

"Why the hell not?" He couldn't help shooting back as they crossed the carpeted office.

"Usually it's because you can never resist." The office chair turned away from the window and spun around so its owner could face his visitors properly. Kaiba narrowed his icy blue eyes as he peered over the top of his folded hands. "You really ought to see a therapist about your masochist tendencies, dog," he added. "It's unbecoming of a duelist."

Mouth opening in pure outrage, Jounouchi gestured violently at Kaiba with an open hand, rounding angrily on his female friend. "See? What did I tell you?"

Anzu folded her arms and wrinkled her nose in displeasure. She said nothing.

Ignoring her, he glared back at his self-proclaimed immortal enemy. "Asshole just can't resist throwin' the bait!"

Kaiba shrugged, totally nonchalant. He stared back steadily at the other before sitting back comfortably in his chair. "As you can never resist in taking it." He tapped a pen impatiently atop the surface of his desk. "I'm a busy man. State your business."

Typical, straight-for-the-throat CEO, Jounouchi thought with irritation; anyone expecting Kaiba to be anything but aloof and abrupt was mistaking the man for someone else. But state his business he would. _Anzu is right about one thing, we've gotta focus on what's really important right now, and that's our friends_. So he approached the desk and placed both of his palms on either side of Kaiba's tapping pen. He ignored the look of distaste the other man bestowed upon him in favor of making his point.

"We know you know something," Jounouchi began, leaning forward in emphasis. "You got eyes all 'round Domino. You see things most people don't see. The cops do too, only they ain't gonna share that stuff with us until they got something concrete… and usually then they keep a lot of it to themselves anyway."

Seeming unfazed by the not-so-thinly-veiled accusation, Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think I wouldn't do the same?"

Jounouchi made a fist and held it close to his rival's nose. "I can't get away with punching a cop without landin' in the slammer," he growled, "but you'd be too damn proud to turn me in even if I did hit ya."

Kaiba swiftly launched himself up from the chair, seized Jounouchi's wrist, twisted it around his back, and in a flash was behind him and shoving his head down on top of the desk. Having not expected for a physical altercation between the men, Anzu could do little more than gasp and take an involuntary step back.

Kaiba waited until Jounouchi stopped trying to twist out of his grip to speak. "I will do whatever I can to help find Yuugi," he began in an even, controlled tone. "But what I will _not_ do is tolerate your childish antics in my place of business. You would do better to ask me nicely and just thanked me instead of shooting your mouth off. I don't care whose friend you are, threaten me again, dog, and I _will_ end you. Are we clear?"

Jounouchi was glad the desk hid the crimson rage of his face. "Crystal. Now let go of me, dickhead."

Kaiba released him and stepped back. Jounouchi slowly eased up, turned around, rubbing his arm. He would recover his wounded pride later, hard as it would be to do. In the peripheral, he heard Anzu heave a sigh of relief. "Now what do you have?"

Kaiba smirked and folded his arms imperiously. "That is not how you ask me for help."

Anzu groaned inaudibly and stepped up. "Seto, please," she pleaded, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "If you know anything – anything at all, please… I know you'd rather tell us when you're sure, but whatever you have, even if it's not important, it's better than…" she paused to blink back the tears threatening to fall, "not knowing anything."

Kaiba's gaze shifted to her and for a long moment he just stared at her. Finally, giving her an almost imperceptible nod, he turned and began striding toward the door. "Follow me."

Jounouchi stared at the back of man's head, his jaw dropping slowly open. "One day, you're gonna have to tell me what your secret is, Mazaki."

Anzu just winked at her friend and started after the CEO. A short heartbeat later, Jounouchi joined them.


	22. The End of All Hope

"**The End of All Hope"**

Anzu had always thought Seto Kaiba was someone who guarded his secrets carefully, either literally behind the steel walls of his corporate buildings, or behind that arrogant mask of his. It was why he was what he was, she supposed, because no one got this far or this successful by being open and easily reached. Unfortunately, this air of inapproachability had the result of making the atmosphere hanging over the three of them oppressive and full of unwanted tension. It wasn't until they were in the middle of their descent aboard the elevator Anzu ventured to ask Kaiba where it was he was taking them.

He answered without turning his head, but she could feel him shift in her direction. "There are rooms in this building that are only accessible to me and contain hard drives of information not available outside of my closed network. I figured it would be more prudent to take you directly to the information rather than risk possible exposure showing it to you in my office."

Jounouchi made a half-choked semi-sneezing noise he was quick to hide behind the back of his hand and the turn of his head.

Kaiba glared at him. "Something amusing to you, dog?"

The professional gamer snorted back another tortured laugh and shook his head. "I jus' find it hilarious that you're _this_ paranoid. Who'd want to hack into Kaiba Corp.?" _Who would even dare try it unless they had a death wish?_ was what he was really saying.

A smirk turned up Kaiba's lips. This was no new news to him – nor did his ears miss the implication. "You'd be amazed at what the kind of technology that I have goes for on the black market. Of course," he added some contempt in, "I wouldn't expect _your_ tiny brain to be able to comprehend that."

Anzu felt Jounouchi tense beside her and swiftly grabbed his elbow, digging her fingers in. "Enough," she murmured, glancing back and forth between the two men. "If it's that important, it doesn't matter where it is." _Honestly,_ she despaired; _I'm starting to feel like a baby-sitter here. Why can't these two just grow up for once in their lives?_

As if he'd read her thoughts, Kaiba conceded. "Mazaki is right." Kaiba continued to stare straight ahead, absently watching the elevator numbers count down the levels they passed. "But it's much easier showing you why that is than it is in simply telling you. What I think about what I know may turn out to be wrong, however; for what it's worth, until we know for certain, what I'm about to show you must remain between the three of us."

"What about Honda?" Anzu protested. "Of course we'll have to tell him."

Kaiba did not respond immediately. "Honda can be told," he allowed slowly. "If only because he particularly may be affected."

"There's no 'may be' about it," Jounouchi muttered, perturbed by Kaiba's attitude. "We're _all_ being affected by this, in case you didn't get the memo."

At last, the elevator reached its destination. The doors opened to reveal a very non-descript computer room with a large screen and a console. This was probably Kaiba's personal computer, and likely, the main nerve center of not only the building, but the entire company. Settling his lanky form into a very comfortable looking office chair, Kaiba typed in his many pass codes, a number of which were several lines long. He tugged and loosened his tie with his other hand.

"The hell kinda operatin' system you usin' here, DOS?" Jounouchi exclaimed, standing on Kaiba's right side and staring up into the primitive looking black start-up screen. Kaiba merely glanced at him once before returning his attention to the screen. His longer, slender fingers danced over the keyboard in front of him in a loud tappity-tap rhythm. Jounouchi raised his eyebrows. "You know, I'm takin' this online course in C++. From what I'm seein' here, you could…"

Barely schooling back a scowl, Kaiba interrupted. "Don't think for a second that you can teach _me_ anything about computers. Stick to card games it's what you're good at."

Anzu bit her lips together to fight off a large smile. Had they heard that one wrong? Was that a… _compliment_? From _Kaiba_? _Of course, he'd have to disguise it with an insult_. Jounouchi just grinned and ignored the scathing remark. In spite of his numerous immature faults, he was smart enough to know by now when to shut up and take his victories where he could – when he _remembered_ to, of course. Anzu could see from the way Jounouchi let his gaze linger sideways at his rival that his brain was storing the information for later. What made it even better was that Kaiba hadn't even seemed to notice what he'd said.

_Maybe it's okay to leave it alone… just this one time_, Anzu thought, smiling to herself, the grin falling quickly when Kaiba began to speak. It brought her back to the here and now. She took a deep, quiet, steadying breath.

"As the dog so tactlessly put it," Kaiba began without taking his eyes from the computer screen, "I do in fact have eyes all around the city. However, many of these are the same cameras the police have access to. I merely _also_ have access to them. The difference between us is that I'm willing to share what I have seen on these cameras with you. The police won't until their investigations prove conclusive – which they have not." He ended the sentence somewhat questioningly, to which Anzu shook her head in the negative. "To get to the point before the idiot blows a gasket," (Jounouchi fumed), "this is what the camera outside of a bakery across the street captured the day Yuugi was kidnapped." He hit a key.

Anzu and Jounouchi leaned forward, instantly riveted. They had only seen what the detective on Yuugi's case had shown: the recording of him departing the cafe. They'd had no idea there existed actual _footage_ of Yuugi being grabbed. Perhaps this is what the police had meant when they had mentioned 'a witness' to the kidnapping?

Yuugi appeared on the screen, showing him exit the diner, and enter the alley. Almost immediately a large man from off camera appeared suddenly in the shot, following the oblivious smaller man. When Anzu saw the gun, she opened her mouth to shout at the screen a warning, even though she knew this was only a recording. Stifling the outburst, she folded her arms around herself tightly as she helplessly watched the events unfold.

_Is it any wonder the police didn't show us this? _she thought, writhing internally in the throes of pure anguish. _I don't think Mrs. Mutou would have been able to handle it._

The man jammed the gun in Yuugi's back, causing him to stop abruptly and slowly raise his hands in surrender. He remained motionless when the man pulled out a length of cloth and cut off his sight. Anzu muffled a sound of sympathy as Yuugi reacted to what had to be a painful jamming of the metallic barrel of the gun against his back. Then man forced Yuugi to stiffly walk the length of the alley before he was shoved into the backseat of a black car, with the gunman following soon after. The doors slammed and the car took off. It was at this point Kaiba hit a key, rewound the tape, and froze the picture. A few more key taps and the image of the license plate number was boxed in and enlarged.

"I traced the plate to the owner of this vehicle," he explained. "It was owned by an elderly man who hardly drove it. It was reported stolen from the province he lived in outside of Domino four days prior to Yuugi's abduction. The police reports about the theft contained nothing else." He turned toward Anzu, who he apparently deemed worthy enough to directly address. "Yuugi's mobile phone was found on a country road outside of Domino City, correct?" She nodded. "Anything else?"

"No, that was all we were told." Pause, and then it dawned on her. "Something else was found?"

Kaiba got up, crossed the room to a wall containing several lockers. He input a pass code into one of them and pulled out a drawer. He reached in and took out a clear, plastic baggie. Holding it up for them to see, Anzu and Jounouchi peered at what was inside of it.

"A syringe?" Jounouchi spoke up for the first time since they had watched the video. His eyes went from the bag to the other man curiously. "What'd they drug him with?"

Kaiba lowered the bag. "According to my lab analysis of the needle, it's animal tranquilizer. I did a search and discovered several vials of it had been reported missing from a veterinarian's office downtown only a day earlier." He looked from one to the other. "This was a planned abduction. The preparation was hasty and sloppy but considering the short time frame they worked in, these men did a serviceable job." He turned and placed the bag back into the drawer, closing it. "If just barely," he supplemented in a mutter.

"And who are these men?" Anzu pleaded. Pride had gone out the window with the bathwater.

Kaiba held up one elegant digit. "I was just getting to that part." He returned to the computer, performed a few more keystrokes and up popped an enhanced picture of the gunman's face. "I used facial recognition software to identify this man."

Jounouchi reacted very strongly, slamming his palms on the console and staring at the picture in shocked fury.

Kaiba's upper lip curled in self-satisfaction. "Hmm. I thought you'd know him."

Shaking uncontrollably, Jounouchi growled, sending an acid glare the CEO's way. "I don't see how _anyone_ could forget a lowlife like Ushio!"

Stunned, Anzu's hand rose to her mouth. "He… He recovered?" she barely managed to breathe. Her whole body felt numb. "I-I can't believe he recovered after all these years!"

"Recovered or not, I can't believe they let him out." Jounouchi muttered under his breath furiously. "Bugfuck or nor, that bastard is a born extortionist."

Anzu's head snapped back and forth from the screen to Kaiba. "Why… Why wouldn't the police have told us about this?"

Face darkening, Kaiba shook his head, teeth clenched. Sheer stupidity always pissed off the former King of Games something fierce. "_That_ one's easy: Lousy detective work. Any seasoned investigator knows to do a background check of everybody involved and then have filled in the holes. _This_ hole," he gestured dramatically at the monitor, "is apparent enough to drive a truck through!"

Abruptly, he hit another key, hard, and the man's face vanished in a wink. "Unfortunately," he continued almost dejectedly, with an undercurrent of sarcasm, "I haven't been able to make positive identification of the other occupants of the car. Likely they are friends of Ushio's or simply the other members of the hired help." He paused significantly and answered the question hanging in the air. "No, I do not think Ushio masterminded this. He may have had a personal reason for wanting to do it; however I believe he is in the pay of someone. It brings me to the next thing I am about to tell you. It concerns Otogi's abduction."

Kaiba sat down at the computer again and folded his fingers together. "This is a slender theory to go on," he shot each of his visitors a look of warning against interrupting when he saw mouths open to do so, "and I imagine the police may suspect this too, but…" He stopped, appearing almost upset by his next words, shaking his head, before going on. It was clear he was making a palpable effort to speak with consideration for their feelings. It was a bad sign, going all the way to the pit of Anzu's stomach. If Kaiba was _straining_ himself to be _sensitive_, then it was going to be one hell of a blow.

She held her breath.

"I don't know about the kind of friendship you share with Otogi or how close any of you are to him," Kaiba said slowly, watching as the two of them listened to him attentively. "I don't often care about pointing out the good traits of other people but Ryuuji Otogi had always struck me as a genuinely decent person and a trustworthy businessman."

Maddened by not being able to see where Kaiba was going with this, Jounouchi's hands curled into angry fists. "Spit it out already!"

Clearly annoyed, Kaiba narrowed his ice blue eyes at his former classmate. "Is it _not_ clear what I'm getting at here?"

"No, actually, you're bein' vague as hell." Jounouchi stepped threateningly inside Kaiba's comfort zone. "Just quit bein' somethin' you ain't and give us the bottom line already."

The CEO sighed, and folded his fingers together, drumming the tips together. Finally, he plunged ahead. "Based on what I've discovered, I have reason to believe Otogi may be behind Yuugi's kidnapping, and that his own abduction may have been staged."

"WHAT?" Anzu and Jounouchi shouted in unison.

Kaiba didn't flinch, nor did he stop speaking. "After Yuugi was abducted, four personal checks from the Black Crown were paid out. For the last two weeks since his alleged disappearance, Otogi has been regularly been making withdrawals from his accounts. On the nights these withdrawals occur, the security cameras in his building conveniently black out for a maximum of fifteen to twenty minutes. They resume operation soon after these visits are completed." Kaiba held up a finger to emphasize his point. "The only reason why I'm suspecting Otogi and not someone just using his information is because the fingerprint and retina scans made the nights of these visits belong to him. Unless he is being forced, until new evidence proves otherwise, I believe Otogi is Yuugi's true kidnapper." He studied the disbelieving faces of Anzu and Jounouchi. "Is there any reason that either of you can think of as to why Otogi would go through all of this trouble?"

"No!" Anzu was at last able to find her tongue to disprove of these insane allegations. "I mean, yeah, Yuugi had trouble with Otogi and his father when he had first met him, but all of that was resolved years ago! There haven't been any hard feelings since!" She traded a quick look with Jounouchi, the doubtful expression on his face echoing the fears in her mind. "Unless… you don't think…"

Kaiba shrugged his fingers steepled together. "He's _your_ friend. I don't know him."

Ignoring his rival, Jounouchi smacked his fist into the center of his palm. "Goddammit!" he hissed. "You don't think he was jus' bidin' his time do you?" Anzu was shaking her head, still denying. "Maybe he was! Maybe he'd been plannin' to do this for years. But I jus'," he trailed off, losing strength, and his shoulders sagged in defeated sadness, "I don't wanna _believe_ it. Otogi's always been so awesome about everythin' and helpful, and much as I hate anyone goin' near my baby sister, he's been real good to her." His face went through an interesting blend of ashen shock to crimson rage, unfathomable in its depths. "If this is true," he spoke softly, dangerously, "then I'm gonna tear that bastard a new one. He _better_ hope someone else don't find him first because I don' care about jail. He is _dead_."

Grief had taken Anzu. She clutched one arm across her stomach in an attempt to stave off the pain. This just couldn't be true, it couldn't be real! "No!" she cried out, covering her face with her hands, "I don't believe it! He's being set up, I know it! Otogi wouldn't do this, he _wouldn't_!" But the louder she cried out in defiance, the weaker it sounded in her ears.

During their twin outbursts, Kaiba watched the two quietly, letting them vent, before smoothly rising to his feet. "I have already ended my business associations with the Black Crown," he announced, as if an emotional upheaval weren't going on in the room. "Until we know for sure about who's behind this, I'm not going to risk my company's reputation. I plan on continuing my own investigation into this. Mokuba will be sharing any new information with you as it comes up." He gazed at Jounouchi's back, turned to them both, and hunched in barely restrained agony and fury. Anzu busily hunted through her purse in a futile search for a tissue. "In the interim, try to go on with your lives. At the risk of sounding like you, Mazaki, I think it's what Yuugi would want you to do. Don't stop living because he's gone. It's pathetic."

_That_, Anzu thought, palming away fresh tears, _is probably the sweetest thing Kaiba could have ever said_. She was surprised when his hand appeared under her nose, holding a tissue packet that he had fished from his pocket. She blinked, stared at him, and slowly accepted the offering. "Thank you," she murmured, before plucking a piece out to use.

Kaiba, as usual, wasn't moved. "It's nothing. I carry them around with me all of the time." He motioned with his head to the door, indicating it was time for them to leave. "I don't often make a habit of being supportive or caring about the lives of other people," he said as they followed his moving back. "Yuugi was one of my best employees. His inspections have saved me millions of dollars on the world market in lawsuits. I will not let his loss go unpunished."

He didn't see the way Anzu and Jounouchi exchanged shocked glances, and even if he had, they knew he wouldn't have cared.

* * *

_Two Weeks Ago_

Isis Ishtar paced back and forth on the front porch, her arms folded tightly over her waist, as her bare feet cut an unceasing path across the sandy floorboards. Occasionally she would pause, look up and squint out across the small village she had come to call her home over the last several months. When her anxious gaze failed to find what it was looking for in the distant horizon, she returned to her pacing.

This was not helping. Isis silently stopped herself by placing her long, slender, elegant fingers over her cheeks and closing her eyes. Reaching down deep inside of herself, she sought out the center of calm within and immersed herself in it. A long, low, cleansing exhale drained inaudibly from her nose in a short, yet soft gust of air. If she could not continue to maintain her cool, then chaos would follow. With the way things were, Isis could not afford to lose control now. Not when her family depended on her for her leadership, for her strength of conviction that just maybe everything was going to be all right. That maybe… maybe if they _believed_ it enough…

"Oh Yuugi!" she lamented aloud in a sad, soft murmur between her hands. "What I wouldn't I give to have the Millennium Tauk again!"

"What use would that have been?" Malik emerged onto the porch, a can of Coke in hand. "Half the time you couldn't get any accurate visions from that thing anyway," he added on pessimistically. "Remember the time you dueled Kaiba and it said you'd win? Guess what happened instead."

Isis glared at her younger brother. "I sincerely do hope you came out here to do more than offer me sarcasm. Because I must tell you, you are _not_ being helpful."

Malik chuckled. "Would I ever lead you wrong, Big Sis?" He went to stand at the edge of the porch and tipped back the can to his lips. "Atem just called. He and Sarah should be here in a few minutes. They finally found a cabbie who knows how to get here." Rishid was away visiting a lady friend of his, and both were glad they didn't have to interrupt him. He sighed, shaking his head slowly, resignedly. "I understand where he's coming from by doing this, but Atem has got to know nothing is going to change whether he's at a hotel or out here in the middle of nowhere with us."

Isis was more sympathetic. "It is better than remaining where he is feeling helpless. I understand what he is going through." She closed her eyes. "Of us all, he is probably bearing the worst of it."

Her brother lowered his head in silent agreement. Yuugi had been – and still was in a lot of ways – Atem's other half, his once sole means of having a life in the world of the living. Malik's bout with insanity had been like that, however; that evil presence hadn't been so much a spirit as it had been a 'living' manifestation of the long years of physical and mental abuse. Malik once told his sister there was not enough ways in the world to make up for the havoc he had wreaked for that short time. Damage was damage. If you couldn't fix it, sometimes you just had to live with it, bite the bit, and move on.

Seen from this perspective, Isis often wondered how any of them had made it through at all.

* * *

The drive back to his desert home outside of Cairo became something of a surreal experience for the former Living Horus. He saw neither the scenery, recalled the exact scent of the cab cushions beneath him, nor the face of the man who drove the vehicle. The only things he was aware of were Sarah's fingers around his own in a constant, comforting grip and the rapid grind of gravel under the turning wheels. The rest was lost in the fog of his mind, focused somewhere beyond sandy dunes, sun bleached rock, and the expanse of the blue oceans and countries separating them. Gradually his unseeing eyes drifted shut, closing his mind, keeping to it to himself. He reached even further into his meditation, desperate to disassociate. He did not want to be here, _he did not want to be here!_ So strange how very strong that emotion intensified the further he 'reached.' The point was to _get away_ and to _let go_, a way to cope with the stress. Instead he was being pulled _into_ a vortex of anguish and despair.

…_please stop…_

Atem stilled. He had not thought that. The words had just popped unbidden against the self-imposed blankness of his mind, clear as a bell. They kept coming, in a halted flow, as if they were being transcribed by a very clumsy typist.

…_hurts… why… can't… please… stop… _

He latched onto the words more tightly, and the longer he did this, the more of them there were, and the more coherent they became.

…_again, not… oh please… please… why are you hurting me?_

What in the names of the gods _was_ this? Atem was beyond bewildered. These were _not_ his thoughts; they couldn't _possibly_ be coming from him, and they obviously weren't Sarah's.

…_don't do it…pleasepleasepleasenonono… _it seemed to wail and whimper at the same time.

He sucked in a quiet breath, with difficulty. He was having a hard time not letting these emotions infect him, and the anguish in them was getting stronger now to the point of excruciating. Why was he feeling this way? Why…

…_give you whatever you want… _they mewled,_ just stop… why won't he stop, oh why? Why? Why did you have to die why…? I hate you, I _hate_ you… _

and then, suddenly, there was a mind-splitting blast of -

_**OH GOD STOP IT!**_

Atem gasped so loudly his eyes snapped open and his mind reeled violently.

"_Aibou!"_


	23. What Should Be Lost Is There

**Author's Note: **_I realize there is a potential for readers to become confused about the timeline. In the previous chapter, I've made a change to indicate that the car ride to the Ishtar home happened two weeks _before_ the events in Japan with Anzu, Jounouchi and Kaiba. The beginning of this chapter still takes place in the two weeks ago timeframe. I realized that there is a possibility that many could think this an inconsistency, which it originally was, and that I have corrected to the best of my ability._

"**What Should Be Lost Is There"**

Sarah practically came out of her skin when Atem suddenly shot awake and gripped her hand so firmly it hurt. She cried out and twisted it free, holding the throbbing digits in her hand, while staring speechlessly at Atem.

The man was panting, breathing heavily, taking large gulps of air as if he'd run in a marathon. The pallor in his face was ashen, gleaming with the sheen of perspiration. His eyes were wild and unfocused, glazed over in an unseeing stare, seemingly lost in the space in front of them. Sarah tentatively reached up and brushed his cheek gently with the back of her knuckles.

"Atem?" she ventured delicately. "Are you okay?"

Her voice pulled him out of his catatonia. His gaze shifted and the intelligence returned to his eyes, much to her relief. He took another, slower, deeper breath and turned to face her, enfolding her hands back in his own, much more gently. "_Aibou_ is in trouble." His face twisted heartbreakingly. "Someone is hurting him."

_Aibou_? He was talking about Yuugi. "How do you know?" she asked.

"I just know."

Sarah frowned. "You've got to do better than that."

Atem sighed harshly, eyelids fluttering shut for a second. "Remember I told you about our mind link?" She nodded. "Until just this moment, I thought Yuugi and I were no longer connected in that way. Neither of us possesses the Puzzle, nor have I the powers the Item once endowed me with." He gave pause, as his thoughts came to center on this. "At least, I _thought_ I did not. The very fact I can still receive Yuugi's thoughts and feelings tells me I may yet be able to tap into those powers."

Sarah made no reply, as she absorbed this, and tried to wrap her educated mind around what he was saying. After all, as a member of the archeological and scientific community, she was trained in physics, logistics… and skepticism. Magic was still not something she automatically believed in, even though the proof of it was sitting beside her. It involved a healthy suspension of disbelief and going back to that place in her childhood when she still believed a fat man in a red suit could come down chimneys and put gifts underneath a tree.

"How do you know it's him?" she finally was able to ask, brushing aside these thoughts.

Atem smiled indistinctly. "I shared a mind and a body with him for three years, Sarah. I may not have picked up on what was going on right away, but once I figured it out, I knew there could be no doubt." He closed his eyes again momentarily, savoring the memory with pure affection. "I know how he feels in my mind." A length, Atem took his hands from hers, scooted back, and folded his arms, his posture withdrawn and apprehensive. "He is very frightened. I… I sensed anger in him, for his tormentor, and for someone else he hates for dying." He looked up at her almost in an importunate way. "Yuugi is in terrible danger. Before his thoughts cut off, he experienced an enormous amount of pain." His tone became unyielding; the crimson depths of his eyes razor-sharp with anger and determination. "I may be his only chance now."

The cab had stopped, and from the moment it rolled to a halt, Atem was opening the side door, jumping out, and heading toward the Ishtar residence. Sarah hurriedly paid the driver, apologized for her friend's abrupt exit, and tumbled out of the vehicle after him. She had to pause for a moment to make a quick grab for her bag from out of the trunk (thank goodness she'd left the rest of her belongings back at the Four Seasons). By the time she caught up with Atem, panting, drenched in sweat from the Egyptian sun, he was already standing before Isis and Malik on the front patio.

"But did you get any impression of where he might be?" Malik was asking, appearing aggravated. Isis just looked sad. When Atem shook his head, Malik slapped his forehead with a soft groan. "Then there's still nothing we can do."

Atem narrowed his eyes. "That is _not_ true." The twin expressions of doubt from both Isis and Malik sent him growling. Snapping, he made a violent gesture with both of his arms in a single spastic arc. "We are not helping Yuugi or Otogi standing around in the desert doing nothing!" he shouted, his awesome voice booming across the yard.

Malik quickly stepped forward and rested his hands on his newfound brother's shaking shoulders. The simplicity of the gesture calmed the former pharaoh, and he relaxed, the tension smoothing out of the set of his body. He looked over to the silent Sarah, standing there, waiting to be acknowledged.

For the first time that she could remember since meeting him, Malik smiled at her. "You are welcome to stay with us for a few days if you like." _In fact, please do,_ she heard the rest of what he didn't say, _if you have any influence on Atem at all._

Sarah affected a small smile. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

Malik nodded, before he slid his arm across Atem's shoulders and guided him into the house. Sarah started to follow and paused when Isis appeared beside her. "You guys really don't mind my being here?" she asked her quietly, in Arabic. "After what I did when I…" She stopped when Isis laid a hand gently on her arm and smiled.

"It's in the past. Atem's friends are our friends." At Sarah's wide-eyed look of surprise, she winked. "First impressions are not always what they prove to be later on." At Sarah's humble nod, she moved ahead of the American woman and opened the screen door for her. Stepping into the cool refuge of the house, Sarah felt a renewed sense of welcome wash over her, as if she had been forgiven for something. She hadn't known how badly her heart needed for the Ishtars to look upon her with anything but contempt. Isis's words had stripped an unrealized weight of shame from her.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

Atem was having a sleepless staring contest with the ceiling. Even with the windows propped wide open to let in the cool desert air, he still felt hot and sticky all over. He stretched out across his mattress, the blankets having been kicked away hours ago in a fit of nocturnal frustration.

Sarah had gone back to Cairo after spending another long week here with him and the Ishtar clan. Despite being forced to sleep in separate rooms, they spent much of that week of watching and waiting for news of his friends, and sneaking into each other's rooms for midnight RSVPs. The thrill of those stolen moments was dampened by the constant anguish of not knowing if Yuugi or Otogi were okay, and Atem regretted that he could not show Sarah the proper attention and affection he felt she deserved. When he tried to apologize, she simply informed him it would have been the same way with her if one of her friends was missing. Instead of being reassured by them, her words of comfort only drove him deeper into despair. He was not being a proper modern day boyfriend – and on the day she had to leave for New York, he told her this right in the middle of the airport terminal.

She had stared at him for a time before smiling and gently caressing his cheek. "You don't have to be anything to me right now." Moving closer, she captured his lips briefly in her own in a chaste kiss. He leaned into her and they fell into a gentle embrace for a moment before parting again. "I'm here whether you're a million miles away or standing right in front of me," she added tenderly, close to his ear. "I'm your friend before anything else, Atem."

Needless to say, he had had a hard time letting her go when her flight number was called, and he did not release her hand until the very last moment.

At last he scowled and grunted loudly. The damned ceiling had won again. It always did.

Since the night of Sarah's departure, he had continued to attempt several more times to try to reach Yuugi again, unremittingly to be met with constant, insufferable silence.

_Plainly we have established this is not working, _he thought corrosively._ Maybe I should try a different tactic. _

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he murmured aloud to the darkness. Sitting up, he assumed the lotus position, resting his wrists lightly on his knees, straightening his back, and closing his eyes. He inhaled slowly, deeply, and released his breath in a quiet rush from his lungs. He cleared his mind of all obstructions and distractions and focused inwardly. Eventually, centered in an internal lake of serenity, he reached out into the void.

He sighed with relief when, finally, at last, he found the thought signature he had been longing for. Atem almost called aloud his joy. Yuugi was alive! But at once he tensed. As before, Yuugi's mind was full of agitation and fear. There were no images, just a superfluity of emotions, sparking, spiking, and then retreating, like the volume on a stereo, with areas of static. When Atem reached out to touch them, the emotions crashrf, as if up against an invisible wall. Then they stilled, as if Yuugi were holding his breath.

_It is all right,_ Atem sent, hoping to be heard and understood, because he did not know if Yuugi could even hear him. The hesitation could have been just a coincidence after all. _I know you are afraid. But you are a strong man, you can bear this. Hold on for just a little longer. You must._

Yuugi remained still. Then he reached back, warily, and tapped against him. His fear had not abated but his emotions were no longer frenzied. His response was not in the clearly defined words of before, more of a feeling of curiosity. There was one more tap, before he retreated, and again Atem felt the same sense of waiting. He rewarded it by tapping back at him gently in the same way.

Yuugi's reaction was an overwhelming, almost explosive, barrage of emotions. Delirium, rage, sadness, joy, desperation, confusion… Atem had to inhale deeply and exhale loudly in order to stem the onslaught. In the end, he waited for Yuugi to calm down. He was about to make another attempt at direct communication when a single query appeared in his mind.

_Who are you?_

Outwardly, Atem smiled. The question was so typically innocent of his partner. He could almost see Yuugi's sweet round face, with its large lavender orbs, as he asked this question. This reminded him of their first mind link conversation. But should he respond in the same way? _Yuugi does not know that I am alive,_ he warned a burgeoning bubble of excitement, _and he is in no such state to receive the shock of this information._

_I am your friend, _he sent, _I am the strength that lies in you. _Splitting hairs with that one.

Yuugi absorbed this. Then, tentatively, he sent back, _I know you, don't I? _

Atem bit his lower lip. Yuugi had always been a shrewd child. It was what made him the incredible gamer he was. Not knowing how to respond, and unwilling to form a reply, he remained silent.

Yuugi's ease at the communication was growing with each passing moment. His next words were clearer and more concise than they had ever been. _Hello? Are you still there? Please come back. You don't have to say who you are… if you _are_ anyone… just… you said you were my friend? That's… that's better than what all of the other voices have been saying. _

Other voices?

_Can you help me? _The plaintive unease of the question broke Atem's heart. What had happened to his partner to reduce him to this state?

_I will try, _Atem replied earnestly_. Do you know where you are?_

_No._

Atem bit back his disappointment and tried another tactic. _What about your surroundings then?_ _Can you tell me anything about them?_

_A little. _Pause. _I'm in a house… in a room. The window is boarded up and the door is always locked. I have a toilet and a bed. I can't move because he makes them tie me down most days. During the night it gets so dark that I can't see anything._

_Who is 'he'?_

Yuugi recoiled when a mental wall seemed to go up then. He attempted to answer once more, and came crashing against the mental wall again. Curious, Atem poked at the obstacle, wondering where it had come from, as it felt foreign and had a bad 'taste' about it. He felt Yuugi slam against it, retreat, and do it again, before a defeated feeling bled over the link.

_He… won't let me say who, _Yuugi fluttered in a faint mental approximation of a sigh._ I have who he is in my mind. I'm thinking the name but I can't send it to you. _A long, weighty pause passed by. _I…I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm really tired right now…_

Yuugi was leaving! Atem scrambled frantically, trying to keep their connection intact. _Wait! Is there anything else you can tell me? _

_AS A MATTER OF FACT… _was the booming, cruelly familiar reply, black and full of hatred and misery_, THERE _IS_ SOMETHING _I _CAN TELL YOU. _

Atem's eyes snapped open and he trembled violently with fury. He knew that voice. He would have to enter through the seven levels of hell to forget him. Since he went to the afterlife, and came back with his memory, he knew he was one person he wasn't likely ever going to forget. His hands curled into fists and his nails bit deep half-moons into his palms.

_Bakura._

_SO GLAD OF YOU TO REMEMBER, PHARAOH, _the dark side of Bakura snarled with evident savage glee. UNFORTUNATELY, LITTLE YUUGI CAN'T HEAR YOU ANYMORE, I'M AFRAID… AND I AM GOING TO MAKE SURE HE NEVER DOES.

Forgetting himself, Atem cried out, "No!" and lurched forward with grasping hands, before two fistfuls of sheets reminded him of where he really was. "_Aibou_!" He clawed and tore at the thin blankets between his hands, teeth clenched achingly in rage and sorrow. He brought them to his face and curled forward in grief, sobbing into the bed linens, his cries muffled by the mattress. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating in a harsh whisper, rocking back and forth, "I'm so sorry, my _aibou_, forgive me, oh gods, _forgive me_…"

"Hey, are you okay?" Atem looked up and saw Malik standing in his door way, hand still clutching the doorknob. "I heard…" He closed his mouth when he saw the devastated expression on his friend's face and the tear stains on his cheeks. Alarmed, he entered the room and stood over the distraught man's bed. "What happened? Did you have a bad dream or something?"

Atem shook his head, palming away the tears. "I tried another mind link…"

Malik's shoulders fell and so did his face. "Atem…" he began to admonish. He stopped interrupting when Atem finished his sentence.

"…and I got through."

Sinking down into a chair close to the bed, Malik leaned forward anxiously. "And?"

Atem folded his arms around his pillow. "I managed to talk to him… so at least I know the link still goes both ways. I still did not tell him who I was. But this is not as important as what I am about to tell you." He narrowed his eyes and looked right at Malik so the impact of his revelation would be felt. "Bakura has him."

Malik shot backward. "_Ryou_? But he's Yuugi's friend, he would never…" Atem was shaking his head, and he made himself trail off. "You are not saying what I think you're saying are you?"

Atem lowered his sharply defined chin glumly. "I wish I were not. Somehow the tomb robber found a way to survive. Worse, now he knows I am alive as well, although for how long he has known this, I do not know." His face dropped heavily into the palm of his hand and he shook his head. "It is happening all over again," he whispered. He shuddered as he realized what it could mean for not only Yuugi and himself…but for the entire world.

Malik stood up sharply, startling Atem. "Not if we can help it. Sis, Rishid and I are better prepared to deal with this than we were before. If Bakura is up to his old tricks again, we can take him on." He took a deep breath. "But not here."

Atem dared to become hopeful and clutched his sheets a bit tighter. "Are you saying…?"

"Yes. We have to go to Japan."

Instead of leaping for delight at the prospect, Atem saw one problem, and sought to point it out. "That is more than good news, but what about me? Technically, I do not exist, so how will I be able to obtain the proper passport and identifications?" He smirked when Malik stared incredulously at him. Clearly he had not expected for Atem to be aware of such things. He threw his pillow at Malik. "Did you think that I spent all of my time on the Internet creating Duel Monster cards and surfing the FaceBook?"

He caught the pillow and tossed it back on the bed. The corner of Malik's mouth twitched. "What were _you_ doing on FaceBook?"

Atem blushed. "Um, I… Sarah has this page…" He was immensely relieved when Malik waved his hand at him, letting him know he didn't have to embarrass himself by explaining. "So what do you propose we do to get around that problem?" he went on.

"Leave that to me."

Both men turned to take note of the new arrival to the conversation. Isis was leaning against the threshold, her serene smile growing at the sight of their startled expressions. Atem would often wonder if the woman did not really possess a sort of ESP that allowed her to appear with such uncanny timing. She winked at Atem's wide-eyed bewilderment, seemingly enjoying herself. She spoke on. "I know someone who not only has the resources to create an identity for you, but also the means to get all three of us out of Egypt in an expedient manner."

"Who?" Atem asked, even as out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malik visibly wither. He knew who his sister was referring to, and the fleeting look he sent Atem's way confirmed his misgivings.

"Seto Kaiba."

A very long uncomfortable pause punctuated that one.

"I know this is going to make me sound like a whiny little kid, but do we have to?" Malik finally grumbled. "That guy," he yawned and scratched the bare skin under his night shirt; "is _such_ a 110-watt jerk."

Atem smirked almost fondly. "Still, huh? I guess it is true what they say about leopards then… and multi-billionaires." He chuckled heartily. "I do not mind soliciting Kaiba for help."

Malik's eyes practically bugged out of his head, unable to believe his ears. "You don't? Really? _You_? You're serious?" Atem nodded mutely. Malik yawned again and shook his head vigorously, pretending to clean out his ears. "I've gotta be sleepwalking, because the pharaoh I know wouldn't say something crazy like that."

"Normally, you would be right," to Isis, Atem put, "but when it comes to _aibou_, I have no pride." Fury and darkness suddenly filled him face as he rent at the sheets until the threads stretched and snapped in his white-knuckled grip. "Not when _his_ soul has been trespassed upon. Make the call."

Isis bowed her head and quietly left the room. Malik stared at Atem for a long time.

"You know what you're going to have to do," he said softly.

Atem released the sheets. "I do," he replied quietly.

"It may mean the end of your new life if this goes south."

"Yes."

Malik's shoulders fell.

Atem remained solid as granite. "You do not have to come."

At the implication that he didn't care, Malik stiffened, indignant. "They're my friends and I'll do whatever I can to help save them. However, know this…" He sat beside Atem and looked him directly in the eye. "If I have to, I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, even if it's from yourself. You are beloved of this family and I will _not_ lose you to that bastard without a fight."

Atem pulled Malik to him and the two members of the Ishtar clan, of old and of new, embraced fiercely.


	24. Calling In A Favor

"**Calling In a Favor"**

There weren't too many people who knew the CEO of Kaiba Corp well. Even his brother would have been hard-pressed to speculate exactly what sort of person the arrogant man was deep down in his heart. He knew he was loved by his elder sibling and only family… but if he had been asked for the regard in which he held others, he might have described it as with a sort of an aloof, mild contempt. Considering the endless personal battles Kaiba had had to endure – along with several _very_ weird life experiences - he never gave much thought to the "little" people. People served their purpose, then they moved on, and so did he. Very few things beneath his cold, blue gaze went unnoticed or unaccounted for. Perhaps it was why Yuugi's snatching incensed him so much. Yuugi was _his_ valued employee; in short, Kaiba saw it as having something that belonged to him stolen. This was _not_ acceptable. He would not forgive this insult to himself or his company.

So not knowing who to strike at infuriated the hell out of him; the 'information' he was receiving concerning Yuugi's whereabouts – the utter _lack_ of it - let alone who masterminded his abduction. While Otogi remained his best source of suspicion, he too remained invisible and elusive. Once the mysterious money withdrawals were noticed by the police, the Black Crown's accounts were immediately frozen and cut off from the general mainline, rendering them impossible to access by even _his_ computers. It left Kaiba nowhere to sift and no one to chase. For his pride's sake, he made attempts to put it from his mind, but the day to day mediocrity of not knowing, and feeling obligated to do something. Knowing that without anything to go on, he _couldn't _take action, it gradually began to eat at him like a cancer. Most days he found himself scowling at computer monitors, growling through clenched teeth at his personal secretary, and his meetings with the BoD became increasingly brief and punctuated.

Needless to say, his stockholders grew unhappy with his unusually curt_er_ treatment of them and began to complain, first by phone, and then in frequent e-mails. Peripherally, he was aware of his little brother running ragged doing damage control, and yet even in the midst of this languor-induced chaos, he couldn't bring himself to feel regret for not dousing the flames personally. It _was_ his brother's job, after all, to manage these sorts of things, he justified. Why should _he_ need to be concerned with it?

What sort of disaster that kind of thinking might have caused no one would ever know, because after two weeks of quietly simmering in desperation, the tides turned.

Kaiba was not used to being awakened in the middle of the night by his mobile phone. Long ago, he had specifically ordered all of his stockholders, and everyone else who worked under him, _not_ to call him after dark - _ever_. He prized his sleep zealously as a dragon guarded its precious stash of gold (which struck him as a most apt and appropriate comparison). He opened red, irritated, enraged, gritty eyes to the ceiling. He narrowed them in a short deliberation of the peppy little ringtone he had allowed Mokuba to program into his phone. He determined he would find out whoever was responsible for putting together that band and suing them. It was preferable to simply scolding Mokuba - and ultimately would prove to be a lot more satisfying.

Reaching grudgingly over to his nightstand, he picked up, slid open his phone, the latest model commissioned by his very own company, and put it to his ear. The lighted display prevented him from having to the switch on the bedside lamp. Laying an open palm wearily over his forehead, he all but snarled, "Do you have _any_ idea of what time it is?"

"I imagine after hours from where you are," replied a composed, husky, and too-familiar, woman's voice in accented Japanese. His eyes popped wide open and he sat halfway up on his elbows. "I apologize if I woke you up," she continued. "The matter is too urgent."

Kaiba felt his jaw tighten as he fought to keep his teeth from grounding to the wick. "In case you haven't been made aware," he told her rudely, "I've got enough 'urgent matters' on my plate. I don't have time for your imaginary pearls of wisdom and portents of world-wide doom. You know I don't believe in that crap."

"I know you don't." Serene Isis remained damnably unperturbed. She would have made an excellent businesswoman. "But perhaps you could grant me one small favor? Rest assured it will be well worth your while, Seto."

"Granting a favor usually has its cost," he shot, scratching at the reverse of his neck. "What is mine?"

"Monetarily speaking, no more than a plane ride to Japan for my family, and a small request that an identity be created for my… cousin, who is undocumented and in need of a passport."

Oh now _this_ was positively classic! Never would he have _dreamed_ of anyone being this naive. There was truth to one born every minute, he chortled inwardly. Kaiba smirked. "You are asking for a lot for someone from whom I owe nothing," he pointed out.

"Yet it is _us_ who owes _you_ so much."

"Funny. I don't remember anyone thanking me for saving the world." And because the lateness of the hour made him irritable, Kaiba added: "Perhaps it's because _someone else_ did it?"

Isis chuckled, much to his disconcertion. "I never would have imagined that you would harbor jealousy towards Yuugi." She seemed amused. "It's quite becoming of you, Kaiba. I am rather touched."

She was touched all right, Kaiba agreed with a silent curling of his upper lip, touched in the _head_. "Spare me your kittens and rainbows, Ms. Ishtar. You have exactly one minute to explain to me why you need this so-called 'favor' so badly before I hang up on you."

"We can help you find Yuugi."

Nothing else on this earth would have made the CEO do what he did next. Kaiba sat all the way up and brushed his knuckles against the beside touch lamp. A gentle, yellow glow filled the room. Kicking aside the comforter, he swung his long, lanky frame over the side of the mattress and began pulling a robe on with one hand while keeping the phone pressed to his ear. "How?" he bit out harshly as he moved through his bedroom with his usual brisk efficiency. "If this is another one of your spurious hocus pocus schemes…"

"It is not, Kaiba," replied a deep, resonate, and oddly familiar voice on the other end of the phone. He frowned, both annoyed at the intrusion on his conversation, and puzzled that he couldn't seem to place the voice either. The stranger continued. "I can only promise you that if you grant our request, you will be given the chance of a lifetime that was once stolen from you."

"Oh?" Kaiba responded sarcastically, seating himself in front of his personal computer, and waiting for it to wind up. "Might what 'chance of a lifetime' do you imagine was 'stolen' from me?"

The man on the other end of the line simply rumbled. "Trust me, _Priest_; you will never get a better offer served on a silver platter."

If that was supposed to explain things, it couldn't have struck further from the mark. Kaiba swallowed his exasperation, knowing his answers would only arrive if he did as Isis had asked, damn that wench. Women had such a nasty way of twisting his arm these days. First the Mazaki woman and now the Ishtar clan head. It was really beginning to aggravate him to no end. "Put Isis back on," he snapped. "I am in no mood to speak with mystery callers who do not identify themselves."

"Gladly."

Before Kaiba heard Isis speak, he heard a voice in the background say something that sounded like, "Yeah, like _he'd_ ever change!"

"So what will it be?" Isis wasted no time. "Allow us to help save Yuugi from his captor by giving us passage to Domino, and in return, any boon you wish to gain from us, you need only name and you shall have it."

In spite of his relentless skepticism about what might really be going on, Kaiba was reluctantly finding himself intrigued. "As if I'd _want_ anything from the likes of you," he muttered, a contradictory smile of satisfaction stretched across his lips. "Nonetheless, I have never been one to avoid pressing my advantages, much less than when they're _freely_ offered." Deep breath. "I'll grant your request, Ms. Ishtar."

"Thank you." Isis sighed into the phone with evident relief. "We owe you more than you will ever know."

"Oh don't worry about _that_ one." Kaiba slid his mouse across the pad and clicked it. "I always make a priority of it to keep myself duly informed of what _exactly_ I am owed at all times."

* * *

"So?" Malik hovered earnestly around his sister as she hung up the phone and closed it in her hand. "Is he or isn't he?"

Atem stepped into the room, stopped on the threshold, and waited, staring at Isis intently. There was a brief moment where he felt as if he would live or die depending on the next words that came out of her mouth.

Isis took a breath. "He'll do it…" she began, "and he's named his price."

Malik rolled his eyes. Of course they shouldn't have expected a free ride from Kaiba. "Oh shit, what?"

Isis appeared uncomfortable. "Reimbursement for everything he'll be spending on us if we don't find Yuugi." She plucked absently at the edge of one billowy sleeve, toying with a loose thread. "If what we know does not lead to his safe return, our family must vacate Japan under our own coin."

Surprisingly, Atem felt relieved, and he managed a small smile. "That is not so bad of a price to pay."

Malik clenched his teeth together and shot his friend a glare. "So says the guy who won't have to be the one to foot the bill," he grumbled. "On the other hand, if Atem didn't need a passport so damn much, we wouldn't even need to be doing this."

Despite his friend's acid tone, Atem remained unmoved. "It is a better deal than the alternative. Kaiba is simply covering his expenses and saving his face should we fail. I would have done the same in his position."

The shaggy haired young man plopped onto the couch and rubbed at his face. "Still, saving Kaiba's ego from monetary ruin is _not_ my idea of a good flight plan!" He glanced over at his sister. "Let me guess… against all possible reason, you agreed to this." She did not need to speak. Isis's slim shoulder set fell as she folded her arms over her chest and gave a tiny nod. Smothering a groan, Malik's head bobbed grimly. "All right," he bit out unwillingly. "So when do we leave for the Land of the Rising Sun?"

"Tomorrow."

Malik tossed his hands up into the air. "Great, could you get anymore short notice than that? What about Rishid? I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely crazy about dragging him away from that lady friend of his."

Unwillingly, Atem found a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He was pleased for the older man. Rishid had always seemed so much at the beck and call of the Ishtars he didn't seem like someone who would endeavor to step outside of them to see to his own needs and wants. It was nice to see Rishid coming to a place in his life where he could live it for himself and not only just for others. He glanced between the brother and sister. "We do not need to include him if he does not wish it," he began. "I think the three of us are enough for this trip."

Isis and Malik exchanged a quick look. "But we should still run it by him," Malik pointed out. "I'll tell him what we're planning and let him decide what he wants to do. He can meet us at the airport if he decides to come." They all nodded, agreeing that this was the best course of action. "Where _does_ Kaiba want to meet us by the way? Cairo International?"

"No," his sister replied, moving across the room to pluck a roadmap off a shelf and laying it open on the coffee table. "There's a private airfield just outside of the city," she explained, tracing the map with her fingertip, "roughly a few miles downriver that Kaiba has appropriated for the flight. We will be meeting him there."

A bit taken aback, Atem blinked and stepped farther into the room, leaning forward to peer at the map. "Wait, so _Kaiba_ is flying us?"

Isis sank down on the sofa cushion beside her brother. "Yes. He is sending one of his private jets. He plans to personally escort us to Domino City himself."

Malik whistled and stared admirably at his sibling. "Damn, Big Sis. I think you're the only person I know who can get Kaiba to do this kind of stuff." He elbowed her in the ribs and flicked a roguish wink at her. "Maybe he likes you?"

Isis flushed lightly. "I highly doubt it. Kaiba has always expressed disgust toward my thoughts and beliefs since the day we met." She smiled almost brightly then, folding her arms comfortably over her stomach. "I think his motives are purely what they are: He wants to find Yuugi and will do what he can to accomplish this. He won't admit it, but I think he cares deeply for his former classmate."

A soft, serenity gentled Atem's anxiety when Isis said this, and he could almost believe in that moment that really all could be right again in the world. _But it can never be, not when Yuugi is going through so much right now. _As it was it was taking all of his self-control not to be bolting out of the door for the car and to hit the road for the airstrip _right now_. Every second going by meant leaving Yuugi in continual danger at the hands of that undead bastard Bakura and here they were standing around talking about stupid things like Kaiba's _feelings_.

Malik didn't think so. "Feh. I'll believe it when I see it." He snorted. "For all we know, he regards Yuugi as company property, like say someone stealing a valuable microchip out of his patented Duel Disk. Only instead of a piece of computer hardware, it's a person." He made a face at the disapproving expressions on his sister and Atem's faces. "Oh, come _on_, we know what the guy is like. Sure he's human, but he's a practical guy. In his mind, it would be logical to use and obtain all resources in order to retrieve his 'stolen property.'"

Atem bristled. "Do not dehumanize Yuugi so, Malik! Even if it is only idle speculation, I will only believe it if I see Kaiba with my own eyes, and listen to what he says. Then I will know what it is in his heart." _Even though I don't have the Puzzle anymore, I still think I would know… I hope._

Isis smiled up at the rigid former pharaoh. "I think after he sees you, he will be amenable to the many things he has put up defenses against. A man can only hide behind self-imposed walls for so long."

The last sentence sent reverberations through Atem, impacting him in a way he didn't anticipate. Perhaps she hadn't meant for it to have the double, subtle meaning it did, but Atem's own mind and heart heard it clearly. His teeth clamping down on his lower lip, he turned back to his bedroom, half in the shadow of the dim room against the light of the living room, staring into the darkness.

_I _have_ been hiding behind walls have I not? Hiding from the world? Hiding from my friends? Hiding from Yuugi?_ His insides twisted and his heart ached. Absently he reached up and clutched his nightshirt, the phantom pain knifing an invisible hole through him. How could he have been such a coward? _If Yuugi could see me now, he would be so ashamed of me, hiding like a scorpion under a rock, as if I were afraid of the desert heat… as if I were afraid… of him._

He turned his chin slightly upward, silently apologizing to the god of the sun currently awaiting new rebirth.

_My weakness may not have caused Yuugi's kidnapping, but my existence certainly precipitated it. Bakura's evils _cannot_ stand._

Inundated with the emotions whirling and warring within him, Atem closed his eyes then and lowered his head. He was glad neither Malik nor Isis could see the anguish in his face. The last thing he needed right now was them hovering around him in concern.

_Yet I cannot be sure I have the strength to face Bakura with the same confidence of skill and cunning. Yuugi means more to me than the world or any single game, and given the choice…_

Plagued by doubt, he swallowed around a dry throat and wordlessly headed for the bathroom. He closed the door, removed his clothes, twisted the faucet knob, and stepped into the near scalding stream. The feeling of the hot water hitting against his body, engulfing his senses, and drowning out the noise in his head was only a temporary refuge. It couldn't compete with the ominous silence of the Puzzle, but it was a close second.


	25. Rivalry Reborn

"**Rivalry Reborn"**

The so-called 'private airfield' Kaiba wanted to meet and pick them up at turned out to be no more than a particularly flat piece of desert with a few makeshift tents pitched to provide shelter. It was good landing turf, to be sure, but waiting under the pressing hand of the unforgiving sun was proving to be more than just a chore – and a trying one at that.

"If I had known that SOB was going to be late," Malik grumbled, fanning his dark, sweat dampened face and neck with a folded roadmap, "I would have brought a deck of cards… or a sedative."

From where he sat perched in a lawn chair brought along for the occasion, Atem stared at his friend, perplexed. "A sedative?" he repeated, absently wiping the perspiration dripping into his eyes. "What ever for?"

"What ever for?" The youngest Ishtar slapped the map against his thigh, aggravated. "I'd rather be passed out than being forced to have to stand around on a hot airstrip all the bloody livelong day, that's why!"

The Living Horus chuckled heartily. "I think you have been spoiled by too much modern day air conditioning. It is not so bad."

"You call 114 degrees of pounding solar punishment 'not so bad'?" Malik exclaimed incredulously. "I'd hate to see what you would consider 'worse.'"

_Worse would be Kaiba not arriving at all._ Atem tilted back his head and gazed into the flawless blue canvas spreading out as far as the eye could see. A short distance away from their meager shelter, Isis scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars. Like them, she had taken a departure from her usual attire. Today she was wearing Khaki slacks, a wide brim hat, and a white shirt unbuttoned around the neck, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She was an extraordinary sight, and had robbed both her brother and himself speechless when she had run from the house to hop in the back of the Fiesta.

Isis simply smiled at their stunned expressions. "Is it no less shocking than when Atem chooses to wear leather pants in such heat?" she quipped.

She had made a valid point. It certainly had prevented Malik from cracking wise about it! On the plus side, Atem privately thought it revealed the generous figure Isis often hid behind voluminous dresses and skirts. Who knew _pants_ made _Isis_, of all people, look even more womanly? But never mind that… Somehow even the smaller joys and perks of life darkened in the shadow of Yuugi's kidnapping. How could he be happy about anything anymore when for Yuugi every minute that passed by might be his last?

_Please do not give up, Yuugi, keep fighting!_ he called out into the mind link, knowing it was fruitless, but doing it because it was _something_ to do and not this… this wretched forced helplessness! _I do not know if what I'm trying to do now is going to help you, _he went on. _Truly_ _I do not know anything anymore, except that I have to find you, and I am going to do that by any means necessary. _It was a fair compromise in the wake of his fallen pride.

A stirring cry from Isis made both Atem and his heart rise. "It's coming! Kaiba's plane!" she pointed excitedly at the horizon. "I see it!"

Malik laughed and pointed as well, mimicking the small actor on the opening credits of _Fantasy Island_. "The plane! The plane!" He grinned when Atem punched him lightly in the arm, without removing his eyes from the great silver-white jet circling the expanse above them. Atem couldn't help the small grin trembling and threatening to break his face wide open as he watched the plane settle into a landing pattern. It was a brief, exhilarating moment of release of the tension for the three, all of them laughing, until the radio crackled to life in Isis's hand. Immediately she set to business, conversing with the pilot in the language of aviation, filled with terms and directions that were foreign and alien to Atem's ears.

Malik shielded his eyes with his hands, watching the plane bank in low and nodded when the landing gear emerged. "All right, he's coming in for a landing!" he called out, not caring if anyone was listening or not.

Atem watched, fascinated, as the metal bird's wheels first skidded, caught the ground, and spewed up dust clouds of sand and grit as it smoothly rolled along the earth in a neat, slightly bumpy manner. The former god king hesitated, watching with round, astonished eyes as Malik and Isis hurried after the thing, ignoring them at first when they wildly beckoned that he follow. They of course had no idea that during his time in Yuugi's body, despite the fact he had ridden in cars, trains and boats, he had no memory of ever having ridden on a plane. No, he had missed out on that one when Yuugi had taken a shuttle to Egypt for the Ceremonial Duel, preferring instead to sleep within the Puzzle for much of the journey. He had figured why bother, since soon it was no longer going to matter anyway.

_How the tides of fate do change… _Atem slowly smiled and gradually his legs allowed him to break into a run after his companions.

The second the plane rolled to a stop, the passenger side door was flung out with as much pomp and dramatic circumstance the owner of the long, lanky arm pushing it open was capable of exerting. The dust had not yet even begun the settle before Seto Kaiba; arguably one of Japan's richest CEOs - and certainly one of its youngest and most arrogant - stepped out to stand upon the desolate airfield.

"The cost of overseas travel these days is criminal." Kaiba greeted the Egyptians in his customary gruff manner. "What you have to offer in helping find Mutou better be worth all of this."*

Since his greeting was aimed at Isis, whom his gaze Atem had seen look for and immediately gravitate upon, the second he emerged, told him yards about Kaiba's respect for Isis. She claimed the man reviled her, but now Atem suspected it wasn't completely true. He may not personally subscribe to her "hocus pocus" beliefs he clearly despised, he thought, but he accepted Isis as an authority figure as he would any of his fellow business people. He smirked and folded his arms over his chest when Kaiba's gaze next swept over next Malik and then himself. _Show-time, _he thought, stepping forward when the paler man's stare narrowed speculatively over the shorter man as he approached.

Kaiba was decked out just as Atem expected him to be: in a long, white, oddly unremarkable trench coat, its coattails sweeping behind him in the desert breeze like a low-hung flag. They fluttered in typical theatrical manner as his gaze ceased lingering over Atem, and focused back on Isis and Malik respectively. Isis offered the man her upturned palm in greeting, which Kaiba grasped automatically and shook.

"Thank you so much for coming to Egypt on such short notice," Isis began with as much warmth as she was capable of exuding – this _was_ Kaiba after all – after releasing the man's hand. "I know taking the time out of the search effort to come here is a large sacrifice for you."

Kaiba all but impaled the woman with a sub-zero glare. "I consider no time spent in this effort an 'out,' Ms. Ishtar. You can dispense with the pleasantries and chit chat. I am not the sort of person who hobnobs during emergencies."

Malik smirked. "That's obvious enough. I'm surprised you decided to come yourself."

Kaiba's glare found another target. "If I wanted to listen to smartass remarks, I would have brought the dog along for the ride." Malik frowned and folded his arms peevishly over his chest. Ignoring the younger man's sullen reaction, Kaiba returned his attention to Atem, who stood with his hand on one hip. The second their gazes connected, Atem moved forward and closed the gap between them before stopping a short distance apart.

Kaiba stared down at the shorter man and tilted his head. The speculative expression had returned. Atem could practically see the wheels turning in the other gamer's head as his brain attempted to make sense of who he was looking at. There was recognition in Kaiba's face but the furrow between his eyebrows was telling the former pharaoh the man wasn't putting the pieces together yet.

After several silent moments of staring at one another, Atem let out a quiet sigh. "Quite honestly, Kaiba," he began in his trademark baritone, literally causing the eyes of his rival to widen and nearly bulge from their sockets, "is it the hair or the face, because I do not know about you, but I would have thought you would at least recognize your own rival!"

Kaiba wavered, one foot sliding back, before he hardened and clenched his fists at his sides in an effort to recover from his brief lapse of composure. "You are _not_ Mutou!" he ground out.

Atem rolled his eyes. "Clearly not." This was going nowhere fast.

"But…" Kaiba stopped, stumped, and shook his head slightly. "Then how can you have the same… and…" He trailed off almost thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, Yuugi has not acted… or has spoken…" He growled and pulled a photograph from his coat and glanced at it and then back up at Atem. "I thought this was a joke when she'd sent your photograph to me to create your identities and passports," he spoke through clenched teeth, and tucked it back in his pocket. "Clearly not," he imitated Atem's words and stepped right up close to the former god king. He peered up close and personal into his face and deep into his eyes. Atem folded his arms and remained expressionless and unmoved.

"Don't think for one second this means I believe you were a spirit that used to inhabit Yuugi's body," he began in a low voice so the other two couldn't hear him. "Nor does it prove you were a pharaoh from the ancient past and that that hallucination that the rest of you call your 'memory world' was anything _but_ a fabrication. Yes, Yuugi told me all about it," he replied to the perplexed look on Atem's face. "I was there too. He still insists that you, the idiot with the purple cape who rode around like some sort of Batman on a horse, were also the spirit who lived inside the ancient Egyptian artifact he wore around his throat." He lifted an index finger and stuck it nearly between Atem's emotionless crimson eyes. "Do not imagine yourself to be any kind of rival of _mine_." He produced a leather bound passport and handed it to Atem. "As far as I am concerned, you and I have never met… Atem Ishtar."

Atem smirked as he opened the passport and perused its contents. _I suppose it was too much of a stretch to have expected Kaiba, of all people, to finally accept the truth about who I really was. _Still, he couldn't resist getting in a parting shot. "What about the Ceremonial Duel, then?" he challenged as the Japanese man retreated from his personal space. "Can you offer an explanation for what happened there?"

Kaiba opened his mouth and then closed it. His lips tightened and his jaw tensed. "No," he spoke at last, "and you will never hear one from me."

_Ah-ha._ Satisfied, Atem smirked again before he handed his passport over to Isis when she came up to him to have a look at it. She nodded and handed them back to him. "All of it appears to be in order." To Kaiba: "You have done a fantastic job. These look exactly like our own."

Malik came up and grabbed one of the Atem's wrists so he could have a look at them. He let out a low whistle. "Wow, that's the best forgery I've ever seen! Hey, do you think you could make me one for…"

Kaiba cut him off with a blunt: "No."

"You didn't know what I was about to ask!" Malik snapped forthrightly, flushing with anger.

"You're right. The answer is still no." Surveying his passengers, he nodded. "If the rest of your paperwork is in order, I would rather take off sometime today. Save whatever you need to say to me for the duration of the trip." He canted a last suspicious eye at Atem who had not taken his own off of him the entire time before swirling around to step back into the plane. He could see from the way Kaiba had regarded him, he was going to be living under the man's microscope for a while. Maybe it was a good thing Kaiba doubted him, he thought, because if he came around to realizing that it was _Atem_ that had been his true rival, the man would stop at nothing to make sure a rematch happened. Nothing like a second chance against the best rival he'd ever had… once he accepted Yuugi and Atem really had been separate from each other and not the same person!

_No matter. _Atem smiled when Isis touched his shoulder and responded to her gentle reminder that it was time to leave. _That – and anything else - is going to have to wait._ Still, it was great to see Kaiba despite the fact the man had the personality of a lizard. He fervently hoped that maybe, this time, in _this_ incarnation, he could find a way to cultivate some sort of friendship with the man. _It would be a long stretch,_ he thought, _but as I am now, one man cannot have too many friends._

* * *

*_This is a parody of a line out of an episode of _The X-Files_, in which Mulder greets Scully with: "Four dollars an hour for parking is criminal, what you have better be worth forty-five minutes!" _


	26. Cloak and Dagger

"**Cloak and Dagger"**

Denial, as the old joke went, was a river in Egypt. Usually Malik despised the old jokes, especially the _bad_ ones. Denial sounded like 'the Nile' hardy ha ha. Between where they were coming from and where they were going to, coupled along with the attitude of their benefactor and escort… well, there were exceptions to everything. Personally, Malik thought Kaiba was taking the proverbial cake on the taxonomy of denial. Just how far could his infamous skepticism take him until he would be forced to acknowledge the truth?

But he did. Kaiba's mouth may have said one thing but his eyes, as the old saying went, wouldn't shut up. There wasn't much room for privacy on the luxury jet, so it was no real feat of physics for Malik to simply turn his head so he could observe the game mogul at his leisure. From across the cabin, those eyes premeditated unwaveringly upon Atem as he gazed pensively out of his portal window. It reminded Malik much in the way a cat watched the movements of its prey, examining it for signs of weakness, waiting for its chance to strike.

Ostensibly unconscious to the eyes upon him both calculating and concerned, the former Egyptian pharaoh had chosen to keep to himself. Malik couldn't blame him. This _was_ going to be his last chance for solace until they reached Japan, and Re knew what chaos awaited the poor man _there_. To amuse himself, he would take his deck out and separate the cards into piles. He would select certain cards, divide them, put them together again, shuffle them, and then lay them aside. He did this several times in a myriad of different, incomprehensible combinations. At one point, he accepted the stewardess's offer of bottled water and a small meal. Malik let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Good, he's still eating, _he thought, relieved. _At least Yuugi's disappearance hasn't completely owned him enough to rob him of his appetite. Re knows what might need to be done if he actually stops eating._

Self-admittedly, Malik couldn't say he understood the deep bond between the two men as well as he liked. Perhaps it was because he wasn't meant to. Atem and Yuugi had shared the same body. _For three years_. They literally had slept, ate, fought and breathed through and _for_ the other. They walked into and out of each other's minds and souls at will. The other was always around, always there and only ever had been seen or heard by the other. Who else on earth could relate to that?

_Ryou – the _real_ Ryou - could, but something tells me he's not 'around,' anymore to give his opinion on it._

Mentally shrugging, Malik relaxed his shoulders against the cushions and tilted back his head, closing his eyes. It was in his best interest if he didn't try to analyze it. Atem and Yuugi just _were_, and whatever they were to each other now, with this newly unexpected chapter to their story, Malik Ishtar was only along for the ride. Not that he minded. Atem was as surely the brother of his heart as Rishid had always been – he certainly more than met the standard criteria! _You can't be a true Ishtar if you aren't involved in _some_ sort of magical misadventure_, the young Egyptian thought amusedly. _That,_ Malik added with a mental snigger, _or being just plain old abnormal, and in _that_ case… _He smothered his laughter watching as a tall, lanky certain someone made himself at home on the seat directly across from the ex-god king. _I think _all_ of our friends would qualify! _

* * *

"You're quiet, Ishtar."

Atem did not look up from the cards he held in his hand. Gradually, a displeased frown furrowed and wrinkled his smooth brow. Slowly, deliberately, he drew a single card and lay it face down on the tray in front of him. "If you want to start using surnames, Kaiba," he began, "then may I suggest you start by using the right ones?" He lifted his chin then, his eyes sharp, crimson, and lined jet black with kohl. He was a falcon about to fall his talons upon the snake. "I am no more Ishtar than I am _per'aa_," he added matter-of-factly_._

Kaiba returned him stare for stare over the top of his folded fingers, clearer than ice and twice as arctic. "Fair enough." The other inclined his head just so he understood Atem had heard him.

As several moments of silence elapsed, Atem turned the card over, plucked another from his hand, and laid that one beside it as well. He rested a finger on the angular tip of his chin. "I suppose," he began, a smile in his voice; "it is too much to hope you have decided to join me in this evening's viewing of our in-flight movie?" His attempt at humor fell flat. Kaiba did not respond. "I thought as much." The gold feather earrings glittering from his earlobes shook almost prettily with each involuntary shift of his neck.

At last, Atem abandoned his game, set down his cards softly, and folded his fingers together before him. In the wan shadows cast by the light shining through his port side seat, he was even more regal and mysterious. "You want to know what I can possibly do to help locate Yuugi," he began in his distinctive rumble. "You are thinking," he smirked, "this endeavor has already proven itself to be a massive waste of your _valuable_ time."

Kaiba darkened with irritation. He obviously didn't like it when others presumed so much of his motives, even if they were partially accurate. "In the world I come from, we speak _plainly_. It's not very Japanese, nor polite, but I have found it wastes less of my _patience_, of which you _are_ doing in spades."

_Cuts right to the wick of it does he not?_ Atem's smirk widened. Trust Kaiba to put things in terms of game imagery. "Then let us say what is on our minds."

"That would be prudent," Kaiba agreed.

He was not looking forward to this. "I know who has Yuugi." _Breathe, Atem_.

His expression open with anticipation, Kaiba leaned forward eagerly. "Who?"

"Bakura."

"Bakura." Kaiba's position and expression did not alter in the least with the revelation. He didn't even _blink_. Not much surprised the businessman. "How do you know it's him?"

"You would not believe me if I told you," Atem stalled.

"Try me."

This was going to sound insane, but he was too far into this to back out now. Kaiba wanted him to speak plainly, fine, he would speak plainly! "Somehow I managed to read Yuugi's mind, and in the middle of our conversation, Bakura stepped in and blocked me," he blurted out in one breath.

True to form, Kaiba's reaction was unsurprisingly vehement. "Bullshit!"

Schooling back the urge to flinch, Atem only shrugged his response. "It is true."

Understandably, Kaiba looked ready about to kill, and for a moment, he seemed to cast about, looking for someone to scream at, or possibly a weapon to seize. Fortunately, he found nothing in which to target his outrage, or grab hold of to use upon the specter _of_ said outrage (Atem). Bringing his fist heavily upon his armrest with a loud squeak of plastic, he barked at the lone stewardess to bring him a drink, preferably something with a more than 40 proof on its label. Finally, when he had the sweating brandy glass in his hand, with its great quantity of ice cubes chinking together, he seemed to calm down somewhat. He took a long, leisurely sip and then rested the bottom of the glass lightly upon his knee.

"For the sake of argument, let's say I actually believed this." Kaiba absently settled back in his seat comfortably. "What does Bakura stand to gain by kidnapping Yuugi, of all people?"

The former pharaoh decided to ignore the implied potential insult toward his partner. There would be time enough to deal with Kaiba's disdain of others later. "With Bakura, it is never easy to guess," he answered. "His sort of logic is not something I have ever been able to understand." Atem stared straight ahead as he spoke aloud his thoughts. "However, it is thanks to my being able to connect with Yuugi, even for so brief a time that I have reason to believe I am his true target and that Yuugi is merely his tool."

Yet Kaiba was not so convinced. "Why would he want to target you?"

"We are lifelong enemies whose enmity survives even our deaths." Atem felt both frustration and dry amusement. It was a chore to have to _explain_ all of this to Kaiba, as he very _damn_ well knew the whole story, having witnessed most of it in person himself. He knew _exactly_ why Bakura would want to target him. _But you know how skeptics are. Even when it is right in front of their face, without a scrap of measurable, testable evidence to show for it, it might as well not exist_. Preparing for a long haul, Atem reluctantly began his exposition.

"Bakura is, as you modern people might say, a 3000 year old pain in my ass." (Kaiba fought and failed to hide a slight twitching of his upper lip). "He is unable to let go of his hatred for me and seeks to punish me for his suffering, which he has held me personally responsible for."

"And are you?"

Atem gave him a dirty look. "Absolutely not!"

"Right."

Atem flicked his wrist at Kaiba, as if brushing aside his skepticism. "I do not care if you believe me." He continued as if the other man hadn't interrupted. "He attempted to destroy me in the past with Zorc, and mostly failed – twice might I add. It seems logical to assume with my having returned to the realm of the living, he seeks to carry on our war once again. Namely, from what it seems, by taking Yuugi, knowing that would spur me into going after him." Atem's arms moved to the rests as he let the back of his head connect with the cushion behind him. _And I fear he may have the tools of his victory at hand this time…_

Taken aback, Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I remember most of that from your alleged 'memory world.' But we're not going to debate that." He scooted forward slightly, measuring his thoughts aloud. "I cannot imagine why you - if you _are_ who you believe I should _think_ you are and if this wild assumption is true - would allow Bakura to wield Yuugi as a weapon. If someone were to take Mokuba, I would not let anything stop me from saving him… not even the threat of causing more harm to come to him."

Atem almost smiled. Entire planets might bar the man's path and he would find a way to surmount them; Kaiba was just not the sort of person who saw the obstacles, he saw the solutions to getting around them, and sometimes, in spite of them. "I know." His fingers clutched the armrests as he quietly trembled. "I am unfettered and have nothing to lose but my life," he mumbled to his lap before looking up once more at his rival. "Which I know this battle may very well cost me."

_I fear your predecessor's last kindness may have been in vain,_ he thought, _for I am ready to risk ending what was so graciously returned to me. _

Kaiba seemed to have lost his battle with doubt and had given in to the 'madness' simply for the sake of vainly trying to follow their cryptic conversation. "You're willing to go that far to take down a lowlife like Bakura." It was a statement.

"Yes."

The CEO gave a derisive snort. "You're an idiot."

"I am aware of that."

Head tilting to the side, Kaiba raised an eyebrow, appearing more interested in this than disturbed. The knowledge that he was speaking to someone willing to go on a suicide mission didn't seem to faze him. It would have been odd if it were someone else he was speaking to. "Do you have any idea of where they are?" he inquired at last, sidestepping the issue entirely. "Bakura or Yuugi?"

Secretly grateful, Atem huffed out a reluctant sigh. "No."

"But you're _sure_ he's still in Japan."

"Reasonably certain, but no, not for sure." Atem ignored the brief eye roll he received for that response. "I see little reason for Bakura to go through with the hassle of leaving the country. There are too many places for someone like him to hide captives, especially on an island chain as large as Japan. He _is_ a thief, after all, and would know how to disappear."

Kaiba steepled his fingertips together thoughtfully. "Yuugi is not the only one missing," he began after a long moment of contemplation. "I'm sure you know Ryuugi Otogi is missing as well." Atem nodded. "Based on what you've said, if Bakura is actually the culprit, then it makes sense to draw the conclusion that he's also responsible for Otogi's abduction and that it was _he_ that was using Otogi to siphon money from the Black Crown's funds." He tapped his fingers together. "There is nothing to prove this, of course, but nothing to disprove it either."

Atem shook his head. Isis had told him all of this already. Even before he'd found out about Bakura, he had never believed Otogi to be the guilty party. "I do not believe Otogi bears any responsibility for Yuugi's abduction or his own disappearance. I think it is like you just said: that he is being used as a tool to steal money to fund Bakura's revenge in a manner which may appear legitimate on the surface."

"To those not smart enough to read between the lines." Kaiba added shrewdly. "That makes just enough sense to be true. All right," he allowed, "I'll strike Otogi out as a guilty party for now since the facts aren't complete. Our main focus is finding Yuugi, whom so far has left only a little evidence behind of his disappearance."

"Only a _little_ evidence?" Atem repeated, frowning. "I think you and I need to compare notes."

After Kaiba had explained in further detail about the late night Black Crown black outs, the mysterious pay outs, the freezing of its holdings, Ushio's role in Yuugi's abduction, the syringe and mobile phone found out on the country road, and the simultaneous disappearances of both Otogi and Yuugi on the same day, the former Egyptian monarch was able to put together a better picture of what had happened. The pieces fit together awkwardly and the image it was starting to form was still lacking. Still, it was _something_ to go on, to _work_ with. It was a lot more progress than he had expected to make in just a few hours flight time.

"So _is_ there a plan in this anarchy of unknowns?" Kaiba asked after a long pregnant silence followed. "I can't imagine with so little to go on that you can play this game without all of the pieces."

Atem contained his anguish admirably. "No! I am flying into this nightmare with a blindfold and a cigarette!" He clenched his fists together. "Without knowing the nature of the rules from a man for whom there _are_ no rules, I can only _pray_ that by going to where he is I will be able to get what I need to form a battle plan and save Yuugi!"

"He isn't the Joker, Atem," Kaiba snapped, saying the pharaoh's name for the first time. "I think I see the problem. I believe you are allowing Bakura to scare you like this because he's dangling Yuugi in front of you. He knows you can't see past Mutou for the trees. What you need to do is disregard Yuugi…"

Halfway rising from his seat, Atem bristled. "I will _never_…!" he started to shout.

"I'm _not_ finished!" Kaiba interrupted so sharply and loudly, Atem clicked his jaw shut, shocked into silence. "Now listen to what I have to say, because I don't give out advice like this at random." He made sure he had Atem's attention before speaking further. "Now what I remember about Bakura from watching him duel is that he is a first rate narcissist, and like all narcissists, he craves the spot light. _Demands_ it. So here's what you do: You make him think _he_ is the one that interests you the most and he won't even _touch_ Yuugi… not if he realizes he can't use him to get to you."

"Remove Yuugi from the equation."

"Precisely."

Atem's back connected with his seat as he absorbed this. Kaiba was right, because _he_ was something of a narcissist too. They _both_ were. Part of being pharaoh was about appearance and power, after all. He'd had to put on one hell of a self-promotion of confidence, charisma, and posturing to mentally beat down his opponents so they'd play poorly, make rash decisions, and ultimately lose the duel. As Kaiba was a businessman, he too was in a similar role of playing up persona, power posturing, and utilizing mental warfare to make his victories. It was why he stood at the top of the world he had created for himself, unopposed.

And that was exactly the problem.

"If Bakura sees through me?" he murmured softly. "If I slip just once, he will know what I am… and that will be what he already knows." He took a deep, shuddery breath, hating what he was about to say. It was going to be the cruelest thing he had ever done in his existence... and it was going to be Yuugi's best chance at getting out of his situation alive. "Unless, I do the one thing that will convince Bakura to take his fight to me, and _only_ me." He lifted his chin, his crimson eyes hardened with fierce resolve and desolation. "It's the only way Bakura will believe it."

For a long time without speaking, Kaiba watched the former pharaoh struggle come to terms with his decision. Gradually, he set his glass down softly. After some time, he rose and turned to go back to his side of the plane. Atem closed his eyes and lowered his head so that his bangs hid his face.

Kaiba paused briefly and looked back at him. "You may never come back from this." He spoke almost kindly, seriously. Atem looked outside of the port hole. "Can you live with that?"

"It is no matter of whether I can." He replied quietly. "I shall have to."


	27. Catch Me If You Can

"**Catch Me If You Can"**

Consciousness returned slowly. It was different from the jarring violence that shook him screaming and pleading for it to end until sweet oblivion consumed him once again. In a way, he was glad he always kept passing out. He wasn't too sure he was made of the kind of hard stuff that could stand up to the cruelties Bakura plied upon him wide awake. In the beginning, he tried to reach the friend he wanted to believe was still trapped in there somewhere, _pleading_ with him to take his body back, _begging_ him to stop this madness. Yami Bakura just sneered at his vain attempts, mockingly intoning, "Ryou isn't here right now, but if you'd like to leave a message after the beep, I'll be _sure_ he gets it! Hahaha!"

Laughing, always laughing, that tomb robber. Of course, he supposed that was understandable. After all, Bakura was right where he wanted to be: on top of his little world, inflicting misery, and twisting Yuugi into whatever positions and expressions of agony he desired.

_I don't think I've ever hated anyone in my life before, _he thought despondently._ I don't like it. I don't like this feeling… _Over the course of his life up to now, Yuugi had always tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt; from cruel gang members to cheating gamers. Yet in spite of the fact most of these people hadn't deserved the chances Yuugi gave them to show, if any, of their good character, all it took was _giving_ them that opportunity to prove it. In this situation, there were no excuses to be made. Bakura had had his shot at the good citizen award – and lost.

_I have no one to blame but myself_. Come to think of it, how long _had_ Bakura masqueraded as Ryou? Had Bakura been dormant within Ryou until now or… or had Ryou _been_ Bakura all this time? How was there any way to know? Was Ryou's body simply only that now: Ryou's body and nothing more than an empty vessel for a pernicious ghost? Did it matter? Did it _really_ matter?

To escape his accusing thoughts (which were bad enough when they weren't his own), Yuugi turned his head. His eyelids fluttered softly, quickly, before he was able to gradually ease his frayed mind from the tenancy of slumber. He scanned the interior of the small, loathsome prison he had been locked inside for what had to be - a week now? Two weeks? He didn't know. It was an empty room inside the same house where he had come to within its basement. It was musty and smelled pungently of mothballs and mouse droppings. There was no other furniture save the fold-out cot he lay upon. Shafts of milky sunlight poked here and there between the rungs of the wooden boards Bakura had had his men use to nail the windows shut. He moved his wrists experimentally around in the handcuffs that tied him to the top and bottom bedposts. His pallid skin was red, raw and peeling, from endless hours spent straining against his fetters. His ankles were in the same condition, the left one particularly, since it had bled yesterday. The brown spots from where his blood had dried on the mattress briefly drew his eye before he forced himself to look elsewhere. So much for torture that didn't leave marks on the body…

Someone was playing a radio in the next room. He twisted his head toward the sound, somewhat amazed a pleasant song was playing in a place of darkness and pain. He closed his eyes for a moment, greedily reaching out toward the distant music. He even hummed along to a few recognizable bars. It had been _so_ long since he had heard any nice noises in this place…

By reflex, Yuugi swallowed, grimacing at the discomfort the action caused. Oh, oh that _hurt_. All this dry air was wreaking havoc on his throat. Already he was starting to cough and retch as his lungs tried to rid themselves of the copious amounts of dust he breathed in every day inside the unventilated bedroom. If it weren't for the few mercies Bakura granted him – being allowed to drink water and taking short trips to the bathroom – he knew he probably would have been dead by now. He feared if this went on for much longer, he would be in very real trouble soon. It didn't help he didn't have much meat on his bones to begin with.

_I could about kill for a burger from Burger World right about now…_

Saliva spurted in his mouth as the memory of warm juicy meat and spicy fries tantalized his senses. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, then his top lip, to get the maximum amount of moisture rolling around on his tongue and his mouth. Swallowing once more, painfully, he opened his mouth and spoke. "Otogi?" It came out as a whisper, and he tried again, summoning his strength to raise his voice. "Otogi."

He heard more than saw the stirring of someone on the other side of the room toward the left back corner. "Hmm? Yuugi?" came a soft, sleep-thickened reply.

Relief washed over him. "Mmm," he hummed.

There was a bang, a shuffling sound, and then a quiet patter of footsteps. At last Otogi appeared in Yuugi's line of sight. His movements' were slow and deliberate, as if he were drunk. But it wasn't because of intoxication Otogi moved the way he did. Packing twine bound his hands and feet together, making walking difficult. The dullness in his bottle green eyes alarmed Yuugi even more than the speciousness of his smile or the blue and black bruises on his pale fine boned face. His hair, once an artful mess, lay around his shoulders in a messy unwashed stringy mop. Instinctively Yuugi moved his hand toward his friend as the other man sat on the edge of the flimsy cot's stripped mattress. He was grateful when his hand slid over and twined their fingers together. For several moments the friends remained that way, still and silent. A quiet tension draped over the young men like a funeral pall.

Yuugi fought against a dry mouth and managed a small curling up of his chapped lips. "Morning," he murmured.

Otogi dipped his head low, acknowledging the greeting lowly. Before he lifted his chin again, he whispered, "I think I've figured out which of them has the key to your cuffs."

It took Yuugi several moments to comprehend what had just been said. The key to his… What? _What?_ Yuugi's eyes opened wide, once. This possibly was the _last_ thing he expected to hear again in his life: _good_ news. "Who?" he whispered eagerly as his friend pulled away and turned in profile so Yuugi could only see the side of his face and the black curtain of his long, jagged bangs. He muttered something under his breath, so inaudibly, that even when he strained to listen, Yuugi couldn't hear him.

"Otogi," he whispered, repeating louder, with some impatience. "_Who_?"

Otogi hesitated. "The one who…" Raised a hand and then flopped it heavily upon his lap." The one who 'likes' you," he replied, reluctantly.

Yuugi averted his eyes. He knew which one Otogi was talking about. "Oh," was all he said.

"I think… I could get it from him." Otogi's voice sounded as if he were speaking from far away. "If I… I mean he says he likes pretty boys, and he's always…"

"_No_, Otogi." Yuugi shook his head back and forth as if by doing so would erase the awful suggestion right out of his friend's mind. "Please don't. _Please. _Promise me you won't." The last thing he needed to have happen was Otogi purposely subjecting himself to their captors willingly.

Otogi closed his eyes and subtly, indiscernibly, began shaking his head. "I don't know if you've noticed," he began softly, urgently, "but I've _tried_ the other ways of escaping." He turned his face to Yuugi to display a recent, swollen contusion on his upper cheekbone. "They don't _work_."

Anguished filling his stomach, Yuugi felt the air rush past his lips gustily. "But you _can't_," he breathed unhappily.

But Otogi rose, without hurry, wincing as if the very act made his bones ache. "Maybe not." He spoke without looking at his friend. Yuugi looked after him, concerned. "Maybe…" he repeated more quietly.

"No…" His throat was sore, and it was a strain to force his larynx to form the sounds. "There is no 'maybe.' This plan does not exist. It cannot exist."

Lifeless green eyes suddenly twisted to face him, fervent, dying, and in a lot of ways, already dead. "Let's just call this for what it is," his friend hissed with uncommon malice. It was the most terrifying thing Yuugi had ever witnessed. "We are going to _die_ here." He closed his eyes briefly and turned his face away, willing his ears to not hear this, to not _listen_. Despite his best efforts to shut him out, Otogi persisted, the flint in his voice growing harder and more unyielding with every word he uttered. "Don't you see? Bakura is _never_ going to let us go!" He pushed even harder when he noticed Yuugi shaking his head more and more in grief-stricken denial. "It's _true_!" he all but growled. "I've _been_ out there, I've _heard_ them talking, so I _know_ how it really is! He's not holding us for ransom and he's made sure that no one outside of those hired guns of his knows where we are. When he gets bored of fucking with you, Yuugi, he's going to kill the both of us. I'm thinking I'll probably go first," he added mildly, as if he were describing the weather. "Overheard those guys say that the Black Crown's funds recently got frozen so I don't think he'll be having much of a use for _me_ anymore. After all, what use is a living paycheck who can't deliver the goods?" A thin mocking not-smile turned up his lips. "At this point… it would be a kindness."

Yuugi desperately strained to lift his head so he could follow his friend's progress across the room, but Otogi slipped out of his sight. "Don't give up," he begged, biting his lower lip to prevent the sting in his eyes from staining his cheeks. "Please."

He heard a faint sigh. "Yuugi… I don't _want_ to give up, I just don't think…" Pause, another breathy exhalation, and then: "I'm just not sure it's our choice anymore."

Yuugi didn't realize at first what it was, but when he looked back on it later, it was because of what he heard in Otogi's voice. It was the way he'd said it. It created something inside him, coiled tightly within like a loaded spring. It coursed into the adrenal glands feeding his veins and set alive every nerve in between.

"Oh Yuuuuugi!" came the sudden, loud, dreadful, yet not unexpected pronouncement of his tormentor's presence as the door to the room was unlocked and opened to permit Bakura entry. He strode across the room to his captive's bedside. "I wonder what sorts of wildlife we'll frighten away today with your pitiful cries for clemency?" He leaned over the helpless young man and sneered. "I do so very much hope you'll _scream_, you know how much I _love_ those wails of yours." Suddenly Otogi cried aloud in pain and surprise when one of their tormenter's sneakers stepped on his foot. Appearing slightly annoyed, Bakura half-turned on the poor man sitting by the door and delivered a swift kick to his ribs, causing him to double over, gasping for air. "Oops! _So_ sorry!" he cooed, treacle sweet as deadly saccharine. "I didn't see you sitting there, Dice Boy!"

Oh yes, Yuugi thought, bracing himself inside and outside with anticipatory satisfaction. Things were going to be changing _very_ soon.

His newly birthed self-confidence was short-lived. No sooner had he even begun to formulate the origins of this changing of his resolve, a terrifying purple mental shroud draped over his brain and his senses like a mantle of suffocating wool. Yuugi struggled, his fingers becoming claws and gripping into the fabric of the mattress with all of his might.

_You'd think after several days of this I'd have gotten used to it by now._

Until he'd been kidnapped, Yuugi had always thought the Items were the only windows into the Shadow Realm and that without them the horrific games attached to the magic within them could not be called upon. He found out the hard way that anyone worth his mettle in the practice of the darker arts could call a Shadow Game. You only had to have the means, the way, and the will. Bakura had all of these things – and he loved demonstrating them to his favorite prey every time.

Yuugi inhaled sharply and exhaled loudly as the first phantom prickles crawled along his skin.

Noticing this, Yami Bakura hummed amusedly. "Bracing yourself? You think you can take it now don't you?" Yuugi said nothing. "Unfortunately, I've decided to step things up a little tonight." A cool, clammy hand placed itself over his forehead. Yuugi began to tremble involuntarily at the simple touch of Bakura's skin against his own. It wasn't rape but it sure felt like the closest thing to it – because what usually followed was a violation that was more than physical.

So he wasn't surprised when he suddenly found himself pulled from his body and into the familiar dreaded purple mist. He remained where he was, waiting, and his expectancy was rewarded when the tomb keeper gradually appeared before him. He was as he'd been in his previous incarnation: as a bushy whitish-haired thief with a prominent scar on his cheek. He smirked at the muddle of lethargy and defeat on Yuugi's drained face. He threw back his head and laughed, while he sidled toward Yuugi. _Here it comes._

Bakura did not disappoint. "Do you know what I like about you?" he began with that wicked grin Yuugi always hated. "You lie down and take it like the good little bottom you are. I don't know why in the names of the gods Pharaoh ever let a reedy little thing like you hold him back." He leaned into Yuugi's face. "You may have had the will to stick up for your friends," he hissed, "but you never did a damn thing to back it up yourself. No, you let the _other_ one do that for you. Well, he's not here now, so it's just you and me, little Yuugi-kun." He put his mouth next to Yuugi's ear. "You may be able to beat me in Duel Monsters," he whispered, "but you're not good enough to withstand everything else that I am. Why do you think the Little Pharaoh That Couldn't wound up throwing it all away to seal _me_ away?" He seized Yuugi's round face harshly and yanked him up close to his own, glaring deeply, savagely, into his great limpid eyes. "You fucked me over in both lifetimes, you impudent brat, so I'm going to make sure you stay fucked up for what's left of this one." He released the other man, shoving him away violently.

"Why do you let him?"

Bakura stopped mid-chortle, eyes narrowed. "Let him?" he repeated. This wasn't part of the usual program. Up till now, Yuugi had been passive and silent. This defiant whisper was off script. "Let him what?" he pressed already growing annoyed.

Yuugi met his enemy's black stare with a calm, tranquil one. "Why do you let the pharaoh haunt you so much? He's _dead_, Bakura. You beat him by finding a way to live on in the world without the Items. You _triumphed_ over him in life after death. Shouldn't that be enough for you?"

Bakura stared at him for a long time, before he eventually began to chuckle. "I see what you're doing, midget. It's classic reverse psychology. I'd almost consider it cute if I hadn't expected you to resort to such predictable tactics. It only means this is going the way I want it to." He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "So much you don't know, little Yuugi, the amusement of holding such knowledge gives me pleasure. I know about a thousand ways to break you I haven't yet employed and only one reason to give you to fight me. But… I'm not stupid enough to give you hope. You see, _I've_ learned from my mistakes. I know what _that_ sort of thing leads to." He grasped Yuugi by the sides of the head and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. Yuugi fought against a shiver of disgust. "Oh, _what_ a delight you have been! I was going to dispense with such crude methods, for I feel them to be rather barbaric and beneath me. However, there's nothing to stop me from utilizing such methods in this realm. We're going to play a game." He petted Yuugi's face again in mock affection before stepping back.

Yuugi watched him retreat warily. "What kind of a game?"

The tomb robber smirked and raised his hand. Snapping his fingers, his smirk growing in satisfaction and breadth as Yuugi's eyes widened at the alteration of their surroundings.

"This is…" Yuugi without thinking began to walk backwards, gazing around him, mouth falling agape. Gradually his stare returned to Bakura. "How did…?"

Bakura folded his arms imperiously over his chest. "How did I know? Really, little Yuugi-kun!" He shook his head and rolled his eyes, as if the answer was that obvious. "Think! How else would I have known how to follow the pharaoh into his world of memories if I hadn't known _where_ to follow from?" He clapped his hands together and grinned viciously.

Yuugi drew to his full height and squared his shoulders. His fingers slowly curled into his palms and his stance widened. He was ready.

So was Bakura. "The object of this game is simple." He procured a dagger and threw it at the ground in front of Yuugi. The blade struck the stone and stuck. "You are to kill the adversary you see appear before you. If he manages to catch up with you, he will be armed with a knife, same as you, and he will try to kill you. If you stab him first and kill him, I will end this game. If he kills you, I will make Otogi do something terrible to you… and believe me, with the kind of hold I have over him, he'll do it in a heartbeat."

Yuugi barely managed to keep from trembling. Sweat beaded and began to run down his neck and into his collar. This wasn't anything new. This wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "And if I don't play this 'game'?"

"If you don't play," Bakura replied lazily, "your enemy will catch you, and then he will kill you." He began to laugh. "You better start running… he's coming."

Yuugi slowly knelt down and retrieved the knife, watching as Bakura, still laughing, faded away. Behind him stood his adversary, smirking his infamous smirk. He looked exactly the same as the last day – the last moment - he remembered seeing him. Yuugi bit his lower lip, closing his eyes once, before reluctantly flipping the knife for use.

"Somehow I had a feeling it was going to be you," he said sadly as he began backing away, at first slowly, then faster, as he headed for one of the stairs, and plunged into the labyrinth. "Catch me if you can, _mou hitori no boku_."


	28. The Pact

"**The Pact"**

_This isn't real._

Yuugi ducked behind a wall and leaned on his knees, and watched as the sweat dripped off his forehead. It ran into his eyes, forcing him to continuously wipe at them with his sleeve. Of course, Bakura had _had_ to make it hot in… wherever they were. After all, what better way to heighten the aggressions of his captives than by raising the temperature to near unbearable? When he heard the steady _pat-pat-pat_ of his opponent's footsteps rapidly approach from around the corner, Yuugi sucked in a fresh breath, and took off running once again. He gasped as he barely just missed a sudden swift, swipe of his former other's blade as he struck at him. He could hear the air cut as the knife sliced through it.

_This isn't real._

Veering sharply right, Yuugi faked going in one direction to throw off his pursuer. He waited for him to follow before he unexpectedly spun, picked the stair just to the right of the one he had pretended to be heading for, and charged upward. He checked over his shoulder once - and halted abruptly.

_What the…?_

The pharaoh was no longer behind him. Confused, he turned back around, intent on continuing, when another sudden, swift glinting flash of cold steel from above caused him to utter a startled: "Agh!" and duck instinctively. Snatching a quick glance above, he saw his former partner perched on the staircase above his head, upside down. He wielded the knife in a predatory manner – _look at what _I've_ got_ - before performing a back flip and landing neatly in front of Yuugi. The evil smirk he'd been wearing since the start of the hunt remained as he held the knife before him in an offensive posture. Yuugi imitated his stance and slowly began backing carefully down the stairs, one step at a time. The other advanced in kind.

He didn't bother trying to reason with the specter before him. Though he looked, acted, and moved, exactly like the spirit he had known, this was an ersatz of him, and only that. Why, he resembled Yuugi more than the man he remembered him looking like. The real Atem was in the afterlife, he reminded himself, enjoying eternity with his friends and family. He wasn't standing before him now wielding a dagger and giving him a cruel smile. Yet even as he tried to convince himself of this, the less convinced his own eyes – and his heart – grew of what he knew he had to do. How could he be expected to kill another person?

_This is no more than a video game so nobody is actually going to die_, he thought desperately, unable to help trembling when he held the knife up again. _When I stab him, it'll only_ look _real_, _it won't actually_ be _real_. _This isn't _The Matrix_._

Atem lunged.

Yuugi yelped and stumbled backward, forgetting to shield. Instead he wound up plummeting head over heels down the stairway until he reached the bottom with a rough landing. The knife flew from his grip and clattered across the stone floor. Gasping, Yuugi turned over and crawled frantically on his hands and knees, scrambling to regain his weapon. His hand had just closed around the handle of the knife when a weight fell heavily upon his back and pinned him to the floor. He felt the breath forcefully push out of him and saw stars as his lungs made an _"Ungf!"_ sound.

Then his fake other self did something horrible. He _spoke_.

"What's wrong, Yuugi?" he jeered in his rumbling tones, the cruelty in his awesome voice heart rending to his ears. "Can't find it in your heart to fight me? But you did so _well_ when you sent me on my way before." When he blindly struck out against him with his knife, the former monarch seized his wrist and stopped the tip of the blade just inches from his heart. Forehead to forehead now, he hissed: "What's stopping you now?"

Yuugi bit his bottom lip, struggling to turn over and shove the other man off him. _Don't give him anything. He may look like my partner_ _but he talks like Bakura_. _Ignore the fact he's got the nuances right. Ignore how just hearing his beautiful, strong voice again wrecks me inside…_

"Impostor!" he gasped out, throwing an arm out wildly. He rocked his head back and then forward. "Cheater!" Their heads connected, knocking the other flat on his ass - "Fraud!" - which enabled Yuugi to scramble upright onto one knee and reassert his knife back into its defensive position. "Fake," he ended calmly. He mentally thanked the images of Jounouchi and Honda for letting them teach him some of their moves. Who knew they'd come in handy one day?

The pretender sat up and wiped at his mouth, removing a thin stream of blood that had appeared. "You little shit," he growled dangerously. "How _dare_ you! Don't you know who I am?"

Yuugi smiled serenely. "I know who you're not. You can wear his face, _Bakura_, but I _know_ how my heart beats, and you are _not_ him."

Enraged, the pharaoh made for him. Yuugi was ready this time. He caught the fake Atem by the arm that wielded the knife and barely managed to keep the blade from stabbing into his right eye socket. Meanwhile the other gasped, eyes widening, a choked, wet sound muffled in Yuugi's ears. It took several moments for Yuugi to grasp what had just happened. He looked down between their bodies and saw that his own blade had plunged into the other's chest full to the hilt.

Instead of the maniacal laughter he expected to issue forth, he saw sorrow and betrayal flicker in the other man's eyes. _How could you do this to me? _Yuugi struggled to wrest the knife from his opponent's chest, just barely managing to slide it out again, before his partner's gaze hardened suddenly, hatefully, and he tried to bring down his own knife again. While he was able to keep the blade from piercing his eye, he was unable to prevent it from wounding him in the shoulder. Yuugi cried out in pain and brought his blade down again, and again, his survival reflex overriding his wits. He did it until the man fighting against him fought back no more. He did it until there was so much blood, he had to stop.

The moment the image of Atem died in his arms, breathing out his last in a faint exhalation that sounded more like a sigh than a death rattle, Yuugi froze. He stared down at the blood spattered form he held, the dead staring eyes, the hand that had lifted to just barely graze his cheek before falling limply to his side. He began to shake, his breathing increased to panicked gasps, and at last, with hot itchy tears streaming down his bloody cheeks and face, he threw back his head and screamed. His heard his grief echo around him, resounding, resonating, and causing the world around him to vanish and crumble.

Then he was back in his body, back on the accursed bed, howling aloud his anguish, much to the delight of the man standing over him. He stopped abruptly, deathly silent, eyes snapping open when he heard a pair of hands begin to clap.

"Bravo, Yuugi!" Bakura was saying happily. "Wow! I never thought you had it in you. Whatever happened to the gentle pacifist we all knew and loved?" He smiled at Yuugi's stricken expression, leaning down to emphasize his next words. "I think this is just more proof that _anyone_ can be gotten at – even as someone as good as you." He laughed as more tears streamed out of the corners of Yuugi's eyes. "How does it feel, Yuugi, to kill someone that you love? To watch them die in your arms? To watch them look at you with such betrayal in their eyes?"

"It _wasn't_ real." Yuugi ground out, barely able to speak around the suffocating emotions threatening to consume his heart and soul. "I… I _didn't_ kill him!"

However, Bakura remained undaunted. "No, not really, yet… I think you would if you had to."

"You're wrong."

"But you _did_, Yuugi!" Bakura interjected gleefully. "You played that card and you sent him to the afterlife."

"That was different! He _wanted_ to go!" Yuugi cried out, yanking his arms so hard against the metal cuffs, they bled. "Besides, he… he was already dead! I was just… I was just helping him go to where he belonged! I didn't _kill_ him_, I didn't kill him_!"

Stepping back, Bakura folded his arms over chest, completely satisfied with a job well done. "If that's true then why do you feel the need to justify yourself to me? Admit it, little man, some part of you regrets what you did. Maybe you should stop pretending you're a goody little two shoes and admit to yourself what you _really_ are." Yuugi yelled and thrashed in his cot. Bakura laughed again and cuffed Yuugi in the shoulder. "I really do love it when you torture yourself with your little moral dilemmas. It saves me from doing half the work."

He moved to leave, stopping at the threshold to glance down at the silent, sullen form of Otogi glaring up at him balefully. "I wouldn't press my luck if I were you, Dice Boy," he spoke low and threateningly. "You can give me all the dirty looks you want. You're more dispensable than Mutou and I know you know it." With a final snigger, he stepped from the room and the door slammed shut behind him. The second that happened, Otogi's head whipped in the direction of Yuugi's bed, his expression pale and panicked for his friend. He started to get up and paused in the middle of rising when he heard something he never thought he'd hear.

Laughter. It was soft and barely audible. Concerned Yuugi had finally been broken, Otogi hobbled over quickly, tripping along the floorboards a few times, until he was kneeling by the bedside. He used his bound hands to haul himself up over the mattress so that he could see into his friend's face. He was shocked to see a calm, satisfied little smile on his lips. He caught Otogi's bewildered gaze and winked at him.

"Do you think he bought it?"

Otogi stared. "That was… an act?"

Yuugi shrugged as much as he could. "You don't show your opponent all of your cards." His friend stared at him mouth half open in surprise, but Yuugi shook his head. "I have something of an idea. It… It involves us doing stuff we normally wouldn't do. Otogi," he swallowed and looked his friend right in the eyes, "can you go against everything you believe in?"

Otogi held his breath and yet somehow he slowly began to nod his head. "For you, I would, if you asked me to."

Yuugi closed his eyes for a moment, internalizing what he'd said, what he was about to do. This was for their friends and their families. This was for the people they loved that were still out there, worried, in pain, and sick over their disappearances. They were _all_ in danger from Bakura. There wasn't any way of knowing if what Bakura was doing did or did not extend beyond avenging himself upon Yuugi. As long as he remained in his enemy's grasp, he was in danger of being destroyed – and once Bakura accomplished that, who knew who or what would be next. He knew the thief king too well not to take the chance. They were all the world had now.

Yuugi opened his eyes. When he looked at Otogi now, there was tranquility in them, a resolve within his heart and soul he had not felt for years.

_Against the forces of evil, you must be prepared to go beyond your limits._

He opened his hand for Otogi's. Instead of in wordless, mutual despair and comfort, the friends now gripped hands in fierce promise. Otogi nodded his lower jaw clenched determinedly. Their deadly pact was made.

* * *

Atem was in his hotel room in Domino City when he attempted for the first time since leaving Egypt to make contact. This time, however, it wasn't Yuugi's mental signature he was looking for.

It was Bakura's.

In order for the charade to work, he decided he must _completely_ focus on Bakura. He could not allow any semblance of caring about Yuugi or his friends to surface. Bakura had been privy to Atem's selfish win-at-all-costs attitude before. He had been tempered by his tenure in Yuugi's body and now unfettered by him or the friendships of that host it was to be believed that Atem was free of those cares. All Bakura had to do was buy it.

_If I can _find_ the bastard_, he thought, a furrow appearing between his eyes as he strained his reach to the dizzy limit. _He_ _does not exactly broadcast his thoughts on all channels._

Wait. There. A trickle of thought, a barest thread of words and feelings, lighter than air, wafting, drifting... Experimentally, he poked it. Instantly it became angry, red, roiling, covered in darkness… defensive. It jabbed back aggressively, before freezing. Shock. Stillness. _Satisfaction_. His smugness drenched the link, and Atem actually had to swallow back bile to keep from vomiting. Bakura's mind was the sickest tasting thing he had _ever_ touched. _Stay cool, remain calm._

_To what do I owe the pleasure of this intrusion? _The evil spirit hissed across the mental link.

Atem steeled himself before replying. _The pleasure is all yours, thief. I am surprised you picked up. Losing your touch?_

_Hardly._ Atem could have sworn he heard Bakura actually snort and he muffled his own urge to scoff right back. _What_ever _could our pharaoh-boy want from _me_? Oh, perhaps a very small young man with frightfully ridiculous hair? I tell you, the midget's proven to be a _real_ treat to be around. Too bad you could never appreciate it._

Atem gave a mental pretense of rolling his eyes. _Once you have had to 'appreciate' it for three years, it gets old pretty fast. My own answer is simple: what do _you_ want? _

_Oh that you wouldn't know! _Bakura sneered back._ How very convenient, Pharaoh. Lose a few marbles when you got your body back? You certainly seemed to have left your manhood in the afterlife; simpering and puling like the little girl you are._ _Yeah, I saw _that. _I see_ everything.

It was a lie, Atem reflected, but a very effective one. _As you have seen fit to have left behind your sanity… and as much fun as it is to play the insult game with you, I would really rather get down to business._

Bakura sent him a flicker of amusement. _You're not getting the midget back. Ever._ _He's mine now._

_I never said I wanted the midget. Truly, you must be hard of thinking, or maybe I just have a bad connection._

A brief silence. Bakura seemed to glower internally. _I'm not falling for that, _he replied at last._ I know you want Yuugi back. Him and his little Dice Boy friend._

Atem fairly turned his figurative nose up. _Why would a prisoner want his cell back?_

_For the same reason a patient would fall in love with his nurse._

Atem took a deep breath and let it out in a long-suffering sigh. He told himself to relax. Bakura was trying to get a rise out of him, and that was all it was. _I care not what you do with your playthings, _he spoke with all the royal flair and arrogance as he could muster, _much less _debate_ the nature of my relationship with them. I am here for you and _only_ you. What you do with what and who you like is of _no_ concern to _me_. _

Bakura hesitated again, before replying, seeming unconvinced. _I still do not believe you, however; I do not look gift horses in the mouth. I sense you are in Japan so I know you are serious about something. Meet me on top of Domino High School after sunset one day from today_. _Bring your deck. We shall finish this once and for all._

Then just like that, Bakura's thoughts cut off like scissors cutting through a string.

When Atem opened his eyes, he saw Malik sitting across the room from him, leaning at the edge of his chair. His expression was eager and intent. Atem wondered when he'd come in and how long he'd been sitting there watching him. Casting his inquiries aside he only smiled.

Malik smiled back. "I take it this means good news?"

"It does. Yami Bakura has demanded a duel."

"Where?"

"On the rooftop of Domino High School."

Malik wrinkled his nose. "No points for a lack of imagination. How's Yuugi?" Atem's shoulders fell. Malik balked. "Heh, sorry," he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know you can't ask. It's all part of 'the act.' A bullshit act, if you don't mind me saying, then again, I can't believe you listen to _anything_ Kaiba says."

Atem unfolded his legs and slid off the bed. "There are times one must forsake one's pride in order to do what is right." He walked over to the window and stared through the slants in the blinds out into the night. Somewhere, maybe close, maybe far away, Yuugi was out there, afraid, in pain, and in need of help, _his_ help. Though he still felt restless and hurried he no longer felt the one thing he had been feeling for so long now: helpless. He had led Bakura to him by his nose and now he was in a position to do something about him… and ensuring that Yuugi nor his friends or family would ever have to worry about this evil bastard again. Then things would be back the way they _should_ have stayed four years ago when this was supposed to have ended…

_And maybe,_ he thought as his pulse began to race, _maybe I can… _we_ can… and if not, then I will know… I will know._

Behind him, very softly, he heard Malik ask suddenly, "What are you going to do when you see him again?"

Atem closed his eyes. He knew which he his brother was talking about. "I… do not know. I think… whatever that will happen will happen because that is the way my fate has been decided for me. If I am destined to reunite with Yuugi, I will face him as I have decided to face this, and he will know."

"Know?"

Atem opened his eyes and turned to face the other man. Malik saw the expression on his face, saw what the other meant for him to see, closed his mouth and nodded in understanding. "Let's build your deck," he began, moving things along. "I've got a few cards Bakura might not expect you to have in there." He winked, held up his index finger for a moment, before reaching into his back pocket. He presented them to his friend with a bright grin on his face. "Mainly a _certain_ three deities Yuugi gave to me for safe keeping a few years ago you just might want the assistance of."

The Living Horus stared at him – and them - for a long time before a slow, serene smile began to spread across his face. "Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

Malik made a face as he reached over and laid the cards in Atem's open palm. "No, and I don't think you should tell me again. Not unless you want me to knock your block off."

_Oh no, wouldn't want that now would we?_ Atem smirked. "Noted. Now… about obtaining a Duel Disk?"

Malik leapt from the chair. "Now _that_ one you don't need to say twice either, but I'll be less inclined to force your face to a meet-and-greet with my fist. Duel Disks have changed quite a bit in Japan since you last used one so I'm going to have to show you how to use it."

The former pharaoh put a hand confidently on one hip. "I am always prepared for a new challenge."

His friend grinned. "I kind of figured that."


	29. Escape

"**Escape"**

"…and _then_ you insert the card, and now you're ready to play!"

Atem studied the device attached to his forearm skeptically. "Seems a lot of work for such a simple function. Can I not just use the older model?"

Malik shook his head. "We-ell, you _could_, buuut if Bakura is still the crafty old bastard I know him to be, I'm willing to bet he's going to use the new Duel Disk system." He peered at the device more closely, rubbing his chin surreptitiously, and then tapped himself on the head. "Durr! Okay, I see why it wasn't working before. We forgot to put it into Advanced Mode." He flicked a switch on the underside. The lights on the disk switched from yellow to green. "Now you should be ready to go!"

"Advanced Mode?" Atem moved his arm up so he could see the underside of the card playing device. He frowned. "What is that? And what mode was it in before?"

"It was in Standard," Malik explained readily. "Advanced allows you to play the rarer cards in your deck to their fullest extent. Standard is just for general users and allows players to play all cards recognized by the computer chip's memory."

Atem was confused. "So… that means in Standard Mode I would _not_ be able to play the rarer cards?"

"That is correct."

For some reason, this irritated him. "Why the heck not?"

"It has to do with your internet connection." Malik sat cross legged on the edge of the bed. He seemed amused by his friend's aggravation. "Advanced Mode allows your disk to connect to the World Wide Web and allow accesses to newer or rarer cards outside of its memory bank. Standard Mode does not. Also… both players must play in the same mode in order to compete fairly. Otherwise it causes glitches to occur during the game."

"Glitches?" Atem was starting to get a headache. Things were so much simpler four years ago. _Just wait, _he groused inwardly, _in another second you shall be lamenting about 'in my day' like an old man if you do not watch out!_ "What sort of glitches?"

Malik toyed absently with one of his earrings. "The holographic images tend to freeze up or wink in and out… or so I've been told."

"Oh." Atem stared at the gadget on his arm – a gadget that resembled very much the ones he was used to using but with several new buttons, switches, and the manner of putting the card inside had changed. Instead of slapping the card into play, the player had to stick it in a slot in the side like an ATM and the device sucked the card in. It self-ejected when the card's turn was over. "This seems unnecessarily complicated," he remarked aloud after spending a few moments quietly looking it over. "I am surprised Kaiba would market such an intricate device."

Malik shrugged. "I don't like it either but a lot of duelists are really nuts over it so Kaiba's kept it in circulation. The old model that you used in your duel with Mai is still used by most users outside of Japan. I would have gotten you one back in Egypt if Kaiba Corp. shipped them internationally." He got up and headed across the room toward the door. "I'm going to tell Isis about this and then I'm hitting the sack." He opened the door and paused, looking back at Atem seriously. "You should get some sleep too. We've got a hell of a fight ahead of us and we're going to need you in top form."

_Tell me something I do_ not_ know_. Atem hid the shudder that crawled up and down his body and tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. Without meeting his brother's eyes, he nodded mutely. As Malik took the first step through the door, he heard his voice say softly, "Hey."

Malik looked back, waited.

"Thank you."

The youngest Ishtar only smiled and closed the door behind him. Atem watched him go before collapsing heavily into the chair Malik had formerly occupied. A hurricane of a sigh emptied from his body until he felt limp all over. He couldn't even begin to find a way to express how immensely grateful he was to Malik and Isis for everything they'd done for him. Gods, even _Kaiba_ deserved his thanks – for making it possible for him to even be here. He smiled, thinking about how lucky Yuugi was to have so many people who cared about him.

There came begging the question. Since he hadn't exactly told Kaiba not to tell anyone of his return, he couldn't be expected to keep his mouth shut. Be that as it may, he couldn't see Kaiba telling any of them. Despite Atem's belief of his gooey soft interior, he still counted on Kaiba's chief interest in only one person's affairs: his own. Atem, his resurrection and the matter of his relationship with his modern day brethren were _his_ business. Still… things could have changed. Time had a way of doing that to people.

Anzu was in Japan, he mused. Jounouchi and Honda were probably doing the most of the searching. He smiled fondly as he remembered the two men he had felt close to. He could count on them to hunt down every lead and question every suspect by the scruff of their tee shirts. No stone in Japan would be left unturned, no sir! Yuugi was the center of their little group. They would do anything for him, simply for no reason other than he would do the same for them. He didn't doubt the same held true now as it had four years ago.

Atem played with the temptation of attempting contact with Yuugi again – and reluctantly, with a lot of effort, he let it go again. He couldn't, not unless he wanted to wreck everything. There was no way to know if it was possible to speak to Yuugi on a "closed" channel. Bakura had stepped in readily enough last time, he couldn't risk him doing it again and giving everything away. Besides, it wasn't his style.

He felt ill thinking about his recent exchange with Bakura. All of those horrible things he'd said coming too easily one after the other, letting Yuugi be insulted and demeaned, and not only that, but _contributing_ to the insults…! Just because they were lies didn't make them okay. He bit his lower lip and forced the growing guilt and self-loathing to back of his mind.

_For someone who is supposed to be an expert at facades, I am not doing so well, _he thought dejectedly._ Yuugi, you deserve a better friend than I, but I am all that you have at the moment. I know you would understand and forgive me for what I am doing, but I know the real fight will be me forgiving myself._

Atem inhaled sharply, startled out of his internal debate, when his cell phone began to ring. It was the first time he had completely forgotten he had it. _Now really is not a good time to get distracted._ He picked it out of his jeans and looked at it. Immediately his heart rate began to slow and resume beating normally. _Sarah_. He calmed down and answered, smiling as he did. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she replied, sounding like her usual cheery self. It was good to know at least someone somewhere in the world was in good spirits. "Grapevine's been pretty talky lately. I hear you went to Japan."

"I did. I just arrived today, actually." He took a deep breath. It was time for her to know. "I have… been in contact with Bakura. He has challenged me to a duel."

"Oh god!" she gasped, before continuing in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean, a duel? Like, back to back, forty paces and shoot? _That_ kind of a duel?"

Pleasantly caught off guard, Atem barked out a laugh and got up from the chair. "No, oh no, nothing of the sort. He challenged me to a Duel Monsters game." He took another deep breath. It pained him to have to tell her this, but she needed, and had a right to know, what he was about to go through. "It is not going to be an ordinary card game – not where we are concerned. Remember what I have told you about Shadow Games? It… is going to be like that."

He heard the woman suck in a light intake of breath. "Then that means you might… your soul, I mean, it will…"

"It is possible." He bit his bottom lip, growing more and more unsettled with the silence on the other end of the line. "Sarah, please say something."

"I…" She started and stopped, sounding as if she couldn't decide whether to cry or get angry. "I just… I don't know. I wish I could be there with you. You shouldn't have to do this alone."

"I will not be alone. Malik and Isis will be with me."

She sighed. "You know what I mean."

He did – too well. Urgently struck with the need to breathe fresh air, Atem stepped outside of his hotel room and moved to lean forward on the rail, taking in the sight of Domino City spreading below him. "You are with me, you know that." Sarah laughed and he smiled. He was always great for the cheesy one-liners, to be sure. "If you do not hear from me again this week," he went on, "you will know."

"Promise me you'll call me the minute this is over," she pleaded, "because if you don't, I'm coming out there and raising holy hell."

Atem was touched by her ferocity – and saddened too. "I promise." A cool breeze caressed his golden locks blowing them gently around his face. He was glad she could not see the melancholy expression on his face.

"On a stack of Bibles… or papyrus… or whatever you swear on," she persisted. "Oh man, I sound like Mandy." She caught herself and went quiet for a bit. "I wish you didn't have to do this," she murmured at last.

"I wish the same," he replied softly, "but you know that I must."

"I do." Another breath into the receiver, and this one sounded nostalgic. "It would be just like fate to put a guy like you in my life and threaten to take you away again. I don't think I'll be able to step into another Egyptian tomb now after knowing you."

Atem smirked and folded one arm over the other. "I would not necessarily construe that as a bad thing," he remarked dryly.

"You'd say that," she sniffed. They laughed, and spent a few seconds just enjoying it, laughing together.

"Yuugi is so lucky to have you," Sarah told him after they'd calmed down. "Don't shock the kid too badly, okay?" she added in a tease. "Bad enough he's had to deal with being kidnapped."

"I'll try not to." Atem was averse to hanging up, but knew the time had come to end the call. "I will always be grateful to you and for all that you have done for me."

"Likewise," she whispered. "God only knows that the world could stand to have a few more of you in it. Good night."

Atem smiled, touched to the very bottom of his heart by her confession. "Good night, Sarah." After they disconnected, he gazed across the dark cityscape, wondering how it was possible for someone like him to have gained so many wonderful friends.

_But for as many friendships as I've made in this new life,_ he thought with a soft sigh, _not a whit one of them would have been possible without you, _aibou_. I owe you so much more than I shall ever be able to repay, yet for now, I am choosing to do something selfish. I am choosing you over all of my other associations, over my own _existence_, if only for one last chance to tell you what I needed to tell you so long ago._

* * *

Yuugi was having a nice dream. As closest to a nice dream at any rate: the last one he had been having a conversation with someone before he blanked out and remembered nothing afterward. He couldn't recall exactly _who_ it had been after all. Perhaps a better description was it had been more of a _feeling_ of a conversation, like the sending of thoughts from one mind to another, rather than there having been any actual speaking. He decided it had been a nice dream - the person had been very encouraging, and oddly enough, it seemed like it had been trying to _help_ him. Kind of like how _he_ had used to help him…

_Well, _he _isn't_ _here_, Yuugi reminded himself sternly. _He wasn't then, he wasn't in the Shadow Game, and he _certainly_ isn't here now, strange photographs on tour boat rides be damned. Yuugi Mutou, meet your new best friend: Reality!_

Unwillingly, he opened his eyes to the by now familiar ink black of his room. He gazed around his prison, studying the ceiling and the walls through the dimness. Good, it was getting lighter. Soon, _very_ soon, things would be changing. Today was the last day, he swore it. Bakura had left suddenly in the middle of the night for reasons unknown and that left them alone with the four men in the house. Without their employer around to sic his dark magic on them, Yuugi and Otogi had an opening. There wouldn't be much they could do against four armed men, however… Otogi said he would be taking care of that problem.

"_How do you plan on doing that?" Yuugi had asked when Otogi proposed the idea._

"_Don't worry about it," his friend had reassured him with a sad smile. "I'm going against my beliefs, remember?"_

He did remember… and he was terrified. Granted, he too was bracing himself for the inevitable, but he couldn't imagine what it was that Otogi was planning on doing to get… unless it was what they had discussed before which meant…

_Oh Otogi no,_ he thought, in horror, _no…!_

His heart leapt into his throat when he heard a resounding _thunk_ in the next room, almost like someone had banged against the wall. A long silence… then a creaking noise and then… Another, much longer, silence. One heart beat, two heart beats. Three. Yuugi tensed, biting his bottom lip. He waited for the bomb to drop. It didn't. Instead the night passed a little further toward the gray morning. He gasped aloud when he heard another sound, another _thunk_, this time against the door, and then the sound of the knob jiggling around. Then there was a definite _click_, the knob turned, and finally the door slowly, but surely, opened, groaning on its rusty hinges like an old man resting his brittle bones after a long, arduous day.

Otogi moved into the room. He was a worse mess than he had been all week. His lower lip was bleeding, his wrists were raw from where the packing twine had chafed it raw, and his legs were tense and unsteady. Sweat ran down his face and his eyes were cold and colorless. His arm was wrapped in a sleeper hold around the throat of one of the men – the smoker, from the smell of him – and he was pressing the barrel of a revolver against the man's temple. Said man was sweating profusely, flushed, and clearly frightened. Otogi dragged him over to Yuugi's bed side and manhandled the kidnapper, positioning him beside the cot. Keeping the barrel pressed tightly against his head, he tricked gazes with his wild eyed hostage, and nodded his chin at Yuugi's restraints. The message was clear.

The man reached into his jeans and fumbled with the keys, his breathing loud and unsteady in the musty silence of the room. Yuugi watched, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, as the man shakily unlocked the set of cuffs binding his right wrist. The second it was freed, Yuugi snatched the keys from the man's hand, and proceeded to quickly undo his left hand, and then his feet. Swiftly he reached up, forced the man to turn around, and pulled him back onto the mattress by the shoulders first, before getting off and hauling his legs up as well. Otogi used the hand that wasn't holding the gun on their captor to stuff a balled up sock deep into the man's mouth while Yuugi went to each arm and leg and cuffed the man to the bed – trapping him. Adrenaline was the only reason he wasn't stumbling around and passing out, Yuugi thought, because being forcibly bound to a bed for two weeks without food or adequate water weakened a person. Fear, he realized with a distant detached fascination, and survival made people do some extraordinary things.

When he was finished, he glanced up at Otogi, saw the gun he was still holding on the kidnapper, and seized it quietly. Otogi let him have it. Yuugi looked it over quickly, nodded, and glanced up at his friend. "Where?" he mouthed, after he'd checked the amount of bullets in the chamber. He hated guns with a passion, yet the heavy metal in his hands felt more like a friend now than a foe. _Gods,_ he thought with a heavenward rolling of his eyes to the ceiling. _That it had to come down to this._

Otogi poked his head out of the room first, looked up and down the hall, and then jerked his head over his shoulder for Yuugi to exit first. Holding the gun first and foremost, Yuugi stepped from the room, and proceeded down the darkened corridor. He could feel Otogi close at his heels, shadowing his steps, forcing himself to breathe quietly through his nose. Once they reached the stairs, they scanned the landing, and found it to be clear. The front door was visible and so _so_ achingly near. No telling how long they would last if they made a beeline for the door if the other three men were in the immediate vicinity. They would have to make this quick, with no stopping once they pounded down those stairs and flew out the front door.

The grunting and the muffled struggles of the man they'd confined decided things for them. You'd have to be deaf not to hear that commotion. They'd accidentally left the door open and Yuugi knew that sooner or later the other three would be able to put two and two together. Glancing over his shoulder at Otogi, he asked him with his eyes if he was sure. _One last chance to go back._

_Yes,_ Otogi replied with a resolute nod_. _

Clasping hands together briefly, the two men affirmed their friendship one final time, before together they bolted down the flight of stairs. Whether it was death that awaited them or not, it didn't matter. They would still be free.


	30. Crying Havoc

"**Crying Havoc"**

The dreary-pink pre-dawn of the country side was quietly welcomed by the occasional, raspy sound of a lone katydid rubbing its legs against its wings. Clear beads of dew dripped off the petals of wild cosmos and streamed off the leaves of trees. Thick patches of mist curtained the deep green of the rolling mountain slopes and cast a thin, translucent, pearl gray veil upon everything it hid. Gradually over the rising hours, it began to lift, burned away by the sunlight, as it warmed and coaxed those hiding from the chilly night out of sleep to greet the new day.

Yet this calm ease was lost on a single figure pushing and shoving his way through the undergrowth. Uneven, broken gasps of air accompanied the swish of the vegetation he mindlessly pushed and slapped out of his way. His worn sneakers squished and slipped against the damp leaves. He tripped and kept crashing into tree trunks, leaning unsteadily against the peeling bark, before stumbling forward again. A single cut at the edge of his hairline, which had bled copiously at first, was now a dried, red streak across his face, cheek, chin and neck. His eyes, dull with fatigue and misery, were wide with an animal's fright and void of any sense of where or why. His clothes were torn, worn, and dirty. When he opened his mouth to breathe, the air coming in and out of him was ragged and labored.

By the time he reached an open heath, with nothing to lean on, he rested his hands on his knee caps, leaning unsteadily forward. He trembled violently and bit his lower lip. He closed his eyes briefly. Plunging on ward against his exhausted body's will, he could barely see the path ahead of him through the dirty blond bangs hanging in his eyes. He glanced behind him anxiously and his gasps became more urgent, more frantic. He somehow found an extra reserve of adrenaline and bolted for the next tree line up ahead.

"_Yuugi!_"

He glanced back over his shoulder. The man with him slowed and stopped. From the same dull pain echoing in his green eyes, he knew he was suffering just as much as he, if to a lesser degree. There was desperation in his gaze as he stretched one pleading hand toward his friend.

He knew what he was asking. He wanted the gun. His face twisted and he took several, unsteady steps back, keeping the gun, which he had almost forgotten he was gripping so tightly, raised as a deterrent. Seeing the haze in his face, Otogi ignored the danger, and pressed forward. He briefly looked back over his shoulder. They would be catching up with them soon.

Tears filled Yuugi's eyes. He cast his weeping eyes heavenward, and to Otogi's horror, he pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

Reacting instantly, he leapt forward and seized the wrist of the hand pressing the barrel against its owner's head. "Yuugi! No!" He wrested and twisted at the arm. "Just don't… Please don't. We can still do this!"

Yuugi's breath stilled in his chest, seeing Otogi only inches from his face, his own hot breath ghosting across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. Otogi checked again over his shoulder and successfully managed to palm the weapon away from Yuugi into his own more secure grip. Then he pushed the other man forward. "Go!"

Yuugi hesitated only once more before accepting his friend's grasp and continued to stumble clumsily through the thick undergrowth and between the hanging foliage. The shouts of the men behind him urged him on and, with an abandon he had never felt before, he threw his will and his fire into his feet.

How long they battled through the forest, Yuugi would never be able to look back on later and recall. The way he remembered it best was a seemingly endless cascade of leaves slapping and cutting at his face, roots tangling and scraping his legs, and the invariable urging of his friend's hoarse, out-of-breath voice to keep going, to not stop, to not ever stop. Even long after the shouts of Yami Bakura's men had faded away, the two young men continued moving as though possessed. Sweat drenched their clothes and exhaustion threatened to drag their bodies down to be buried amongst the dead leaves their worn shoes trod upon.

At last, just when Yuugi thought that his lungs were about to burst, a literal shimmer of hope appeared before his eyes. A river. Yuugi gave an almost feminine cry of joy caught between a yelp and a sob as he spotted the small rowboat anchored to shore by a length of woven rope. He fell upon the knotted stake holding it fast, his lithe, dexterous fingers already manipulating and undoing the tethers rapidly. His wrists flicked in quick, precise motions as he worked. Faintly, he noted in his peripheral Otogi watching him anxiously.

"Hold it right there you two."

Yuugi and Otogi's heads flashed up in simultaneous motions of horror. A too-familiar large man with thick, dark eyebrows stood at the edge of the clearing to the river. Otogi's verdant eyes grew close and calculated, like a pair of snake eye dice beadily staring up from upon a game board. Yuugi merely glared at the newcomer, his fingers never ceasing in their ministrations, before his gaze dropped back to what he was doing.

Otogi took in the smirk of Bakura's henchman, their former classmate, and Yuugi's tormentor of old and of new. He saw the shrewd little gleam in the man's eyes and saw it almost as if he had a window to his enemy's thoughts in full view for all to see… and the depravity he saw in them sickened him. A haze of red shrouded his own vision as the fingers clutching his firearm twitched sporadically. Swiftly he raised the weapon for use and aimed it right between the man's eyes at the exact split second his enemy chose to lift the weapon he held in his own hand.

"Get out of here, Ushio." Otogi warned quietly, evenly. "You don't want any part of what we are right now."

Ushio smiled, the reptilian sinister curl of his lips causing a shudder to ripple down Yuugi's spine. His eyes temporarily shifted to Otogi and the enmity in his friend's green eyes did not surprise him. With a calm sort of perspicuity that sometimes comes in such times of sheer, unadulterated terror, Yuugi realized Ushio was going to die now.

Slowly, tentatively, his lips began to yank up into the beginnings of a smile. He felt light, almost happy. When he did, when Otogi pulled the trigger, it was the worst and best few seconds of Yuugi's life. Ushio's body flew backward, buckled and slumped to the ground, staining the weeds in a brief spray of blood. Otogi gradually lowered the gun and stared upon the body he had made with lifeless eyes.

From where he knelt, Yuugi reached out and touched his friend's calf to bring him back. "Otogi."

Eventually, Otogi emerged from his catharsis, coming back to himself, and turned his head to look down at Yuugi. When he saw Yuugi's earnest face, a tired, calm smile touched his own. He put the safety back on and then tucked the gun back into his pants. Together, both men freed the rowboat from its remaining confines, and shoved off across the water.

* * *

They were early.

In point of fact, Atem had made sure they were, in spite of the protests Malik and Isis put up about it. His argument was that it was futile to put off the inevitable. Besides, he told them, it was a smart tactical move to do a little recon to make sure the school wasn't going to performing any impromptu activities that might and most likely _would_ interfere with the duel (which Atem intended to make _the_ last duel they would ever have). Nobody needed that noise, after all.

Malik stared at Atem as the pharaoh – as he most always would be no matter which century he occupied – stared off into the direction of the imminent sunrise. "You might want to rethink your use of slang terms," he advised with a dry undertone of amusement. "You're a king, not some Gen-Xer."*

Atem absently glanced at him from where he stood with his arms folded in that imperious manner of his that Malik was thinking he ought to have trademarked. He was dressed to kill, so to speak. Despite his black leather punk attire, which was adorned with waist chains and gold jewelry (where he managed to find that huge shiny golden _ankh_ pendent necklace Malik would probably never know), he still managed to cut a very intimidating figure against the morning skyline. The impassive look he cut at Malik spoke volumes, causing the younger man to close his mouth and gaze off into another direction.

"You think he'll make it?" he murmured to his sister standing beside him.

Isis looked as grave as he did. "I think he will," she replied softly. "In spite of his fears and insecurities, I believe in his ability to handle himself. He knows what is at stake here more than any of us."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Puzzled by his response, Isis glanced at her brother. "What do you mean?"

Malik pointed at Atem with his chin, who continued to pretend he wasn't listening to their conversation (they were standing too close for him not hear them). "Up until now, he's had to pretend that Yuugi means nothing to him. He's going to have to _really_ sell it when Bakura shows and sell it _good_. My only fear is that Atem won't be able to wear the façade for long." _Especially if Bakura's decided to drag Yuugi into the battle and hang him from a crucifix, _he added silently_, and I _know_ Bakura's just itching for Atem to be the one to bang in the nails.** _

"Guys."

At the sound of Atem's voice, Malik and Isis turned from one another to the King of Card Games, who did not turn away from his contemplation of the rising sun.

"If I lose this battle," he began, his powerful voice resonate with quiet nobility. "If I do not return from the Shadow Realm, I want you to promise me you will not allow Yami Bakura to live." He turned and fixed his fierce gaze upon them unwaveringly. "I know my request may strike you as unconscionable, as the body he presumably inhabits may be an innocent. However, I only ask this of you if no other option presents itself." He closed his eyes briefly and appeared to be taking a deep breath. "We cannot weigh one man's life against billions of others."

Malik and Isis nodded, both of their expressions sad, yet solid with determination. "We promise," Isis whispered. Malik echoed her quietly, "You got it."

In that moment, Malik thought he saw a little ghostly smile flicker across the pharaoh's lips, before he turned away once again.

* * *

Yuugi woke in a sluggish blur of sensation. Pinpricks of pain, like tiny needles, stabbed into his brain. He bit his lower lip, already red and raw from too many times he'd clamped down on it. Despite his best efforts not to, he whined, and whipped his head back and forth. A mumbled "no" escaped his lips, and he began to struggle. The fast sound of his own breathing filled the oppressive stillness within the small dimly lit space he occupied. He could feel it in the atmosphere and the stifling heat pressing around him. Suddenly he was back in that room – the same, damn, tiny, musty-smelling, suffocating room he had been forced to remain inside of until he had almost forgotten there was anywhere else in the world except _that one damn room_. The thought was maddening and he began to struggle again.

"No! Not again! Stopitstopit!" he screamed, thrashing around, eyes open, wild and unseeing in panic. They had been captured again. Yami Bakura had dragged him back into that room and he was… he was in his head, stealing his thoughts, raping his emotions, sitting on his chest, and holding his nose closed, and… and…

He barely registered that someone was practically sitting on top of him, holding his arms down and pinning his legs, shouting at him over and over again, until finally Yuugi began to make sense of the words.

"Yuugi, you're safe! It's me, it's me, please, stop it! You're safe! He can't hurt you anymore!"

Gradually, Yuugi stopped struggling. The sound of his heavy breathing filled his ears and his heart raced as if he were running a marathon. His wide, tear streaked eyes darted around in his skull frantically, trying to make sense of his surroundings. "Wh-Where are we?" he whispered breathlessly. "What day is it?"

Otogi eased off, watching his friend warily. "We're in an abandoned farmhouse on the other side of the river. Remember that we took the rowboat?" Yuugi absorbed this for a moment, before nodding. "We rowed for a whole night and a day before we sank the boat in the middle of the river and swam to shore? Do you remember that?" There was a hesitant nod, before Yuugi closed his eyes for a second, and nodded again with more confidence. Finally he allowed his body to rest more comfortably upon the bed, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, yet not quite making it there. Yes, they were free. Maybe someday he'd look back and feel the relief he so badly wanted to feel. Right now he just wanted to _sleep_… sleep and not ever have to remember his dreams again.

Once he was certain his friend was stable, Otogi carefully, awkwardly lay down beside Yuugi and reluctantly allowed the other man to swing over one arm around him. Otogi turned over under his friend's arm and pulled the other close. Gravitating closer to the warmth, Yuugi pressed his face into Otogi's neck, and relished the soft warmth of the skin to skin contact.

"Yuugi," Otogi chided in a low voice, suddenly uneven with trepidation, "no."

Yuugi shook his head and tried to ignore what he had heard. A splitting dagger of pain made him change his mind, and he blocked it out while trying to tug on Otogi's shirt. But his friend jerked away, not unkindly, and gently removed Yuugi's grasping fingers from his clothes. Then he pulled away from him completely.

"Otogi?"

But the black haired gamer shook his head and turned his back on Yuugi, settling his elbows on his knees. He stared straight ahead at nothing.

Realizing that he'd overstepped bounds by insisting, Yuugi stopped reaching for him. He rolled away on his side so that his back was facing Otogi's. He hugged his chest, drew his knees up to his stomach, and bit his lips together. He knew why Otogi didn't want to be touched – knew _better_ than that, really. He shouldn't even have attempted what he'd done. But, eventually, he felt his friend's warmth return. Eventually he felt the tension in his own body ebb as he felt Otogi start to rub his arm. The soothing contact served as a lull and his mind reached for it greedily.

* * *

Otogi waited for Yuugi's breathing to deepen before slowly sitting up and looking down at his friend. So many sessions of sleep deprivation had taken their toll on Yuugi; the dark half-moons shadowed his pale, almost feminine face, into a gaunt replica of what it used to be. After all, how many times a person could come back from turning into a drooling empty-eyed mess after what Yami Bakura had done to him?

The only reason Otogi had been allowed to keep his mental integrity intact was because of the passwords in his head, his thumbprint, his retina, and his signature on paperwork to authorize cash withdrawals that had allowed Bakura to access the Black Crown's funds. He had been smuggled in and out of his bases of operation in the dead of night, with a gun to his head to make sure he cooperated. The only reason he hadn't given Bakura's henchmen an excuse to kill him was because if he was gone, then there would have been no one left to protect Yuugi. Not taking advantage of the weak spot Bakura had created by leaving Otogi his faculties had been an opportunity he had not allowed to pass him by. Their getaway, while far from clean, or without a body count (something Otogi carefully edited out of his mind and repressed down far and away from his consciousness), had been as complete a one as they could get. One out of four wasn't bad after all – two if you counted the guy they'd tied to the cot.

Otogi leaned over Yuugi again and brushed away the hair that had fallen over the other's face, still damp from their brief swim to shore. He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Yuugi looked silly wearing that woman's pink plaid blouse and white pants, but there hadn't been anything else for him to change into when they had found this place. Otogi himself was stuck wearing a blue sweatshirt with a picture of Hello Kitty on it with pants to match. He smirked. They probably resembled a couple of old ladies about to take a morning jog.

Bakura would not give up chasing them: that he held no doubts about. For now, they were safe enough here in this foreclosed farmhouse whose former occupants had not seen fit to take with them any of their belongings or furnishings. Of course, they couldn't afford to stay here long; until they were able to get back to Domino, they weren't going to be living anywhere in the neighborhood of safe.

_Just one more day of rest and planning_, he prayed to whatever might be listening in. _That's all we're asking for._

Taking refuge from his thoughts of the future for the temporary peace of the present, Otogi resumed the soothing arm rubbing when a light frown marred his friend's brow. Suddenly Yuugi's eyes fluttered open, like a pair of violets blooming in the newborn light of daybreak. They shifted and locked onto Otogi who quietly exhaled a gentle reprimand through his nose and leaned in to touch his forehead with Yuugi's. "You need to sleep, Yuugi," he told him softly. "You're exhausted."

"I know." Yuugi murmured closing his eyes once and opening them again, lips tightened together to contain a yawn. "I just… I _want_ to." He paused slightly when he felt Otogi absently tug on a lock of his hair. "But I can't sleep," he finished. "I _could_ go for a pizza, though." Then Yuugi smiled, almost brightly. It was still a shadow of his old sunny grin and a far cry from a real one. _Still, he _is_ smiling. _Expression gentling, Otogi had to smile back. "Yeah, so could I." He shifted his weight and lay down again. Yuugi nudged Otogi, indicating he wanted the other to give him some space, which he did. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes to contain a line of tears and swallowed around a thick throat. He sighed again, much more audibly, biting back the urge to sob aloud. He dragged the back of his hand across his face. "God, I'm so tired of being tired," he whispered. "I've danced in and out of Bakura's punishment games so much I don't know what's real anymore."

Otogi grasped his shoulder in a strong, friendly grip. He hid the hot guilt churning in his stomach and tearing through his heart. "We'll get back to Domino," he said thickly, "and you'll get back your life, even if I have to make personally sure of it." Yuugi looked at him with wide, thunderstruck eyes, and a slightly parted mouth. Otogi removed his hand and avoided his gaze. "Yuugi, this – _all_ of this – is my fault. I couldn't stop them from using you to get me to cooperate, and I couldn't stop Yami Bakura from… I couldn't stop him. I know I'll have to pay for that somehow."

Horrified by what he was hearing, Yuugi began shaking his head. "You're wrong! I… I know you think because they never hurt you like they did me that somehow they used me as leverage, but you _can't_ blame yourself, Otogi!" He tried to get his friend to look him in the eye. "Bakura would have hurt me anyway, he _hates_ me, his entire plan focused on making me hurt for every bad thing that ever happened to him!" At Otogi's expression of disbelief, Yuugi nodded decisively. "Yes! You've seen him go back on his promises not to hurt me if you would just oh please make one more trip to get money for him." He gripped his friend by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. "Don't you see? You felt helpless because he _wanted_ you feel that way!"

Otogi shook his head, and as he did, a stray tear slowly worked its way down one cheek. "I want to believe that, Yuugi. Then I look at you, at what he's done to you, and I'm standing there, and it's just… it's _wrong_." He took a breath, broken and shuddered. "I killed a man, Yuugi. How am I going to answer for _that_?"

Yuugi pulled Otogi to him and held him tightly. "At least you feel something for what you did," he whispered softly. "Ushio would have felt nothing for killing you, or me. I'm sure that will be taken into consideration by… by whatever decides these things. Okay?" He drew back and gazed deeply into his friend's eyes. "I've never, not once, blamed any of this on you. I never will. You are my friend, Otogi. If anything, I'm… I'm glad we had the opportunity to become even better friends." At this admission, Otogi closed his eyes. When he reopened them he saw his friend looking back at him with something akin to wry amusement. "What?" he smiled, anticipating a joke.

The owner of the Black Crown just hummed in amusement and drew away. "Nothing."

"What? No, really, tell me," he insisted.

Otogi playfully swatted at the blond swatch of hair that continuously hung over his forehead. "Do me a favor," he said, with an edge of affection, sitting up, before scooting and getting off the bed, "don't ever stop being you."

Yuugi blinked. "Who else would I be?"

"Oh, I don't know…" he winked. "An ancient pharaoh, maybe?"

When he said that, a sudden blossoming of warmth sparked in Yuugi's chest and began to spread along with the smile on his face. It was the first time in so long that he had felt happy. "Thank you, Otogi."

Otogi paused at the threshold to the room, one hand on the doorframe. The sincere gratitude and tenderness in his friend's voice puzzled him. "For what?" he asked curiously.

"You know for what."

Fighting back the well of tears he wanted to shed for Yuugi's tireless devotion to him, and he wondered what crazy god above deemed him worthy enough to be in the presence of such a wonderful soul. Otogi saluted him. "I'm going to see if there's anything to eat in this place. You sleep a little more. Tomorrow we'll hit the road again and see if we can't hitch hike our way back to civilization."

Yuugi raised an eyebrow. "And if I have a better idea?"

Seeing the glimmer in his friend's eyes, Otogi grinned and put one hand on his hip. "Well, then in _that_ case, I'm more than just dying to hear it," he replied.

* * *

_*I understand many people might disagree with me on my use of this term, but as there is much controversy over exactly who falls into Generation X, as well as who falls into Generation Y a.k.a. the "MTV Generation." Let's just say Malik is using the term as _he_ understands it.  
**_Edge of Darkness (2010)_ reference_


	31. The Dogs of War

"**The Dogs of War"**

The sun had only just begun to rise when a dreadfully familiar voice spoke up suddenly from across the roof. The arrogance drenching every syllable identified its owner unmistakably even before Atem turned his gaze from the horizon to face his enemy.

"I suppose it would be rather cliché to say 'so we meet again' wouldn't it?"

Bakura's lanky form moved toward them out of the deep shadows. His stride was lazy, with both thumbs loosely hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. He was attired in a black trench coat amid coat tails to rival Kaiba, and his hair was an untamed, artless conception, as if its owner had combed it in the wind and left it to dry. "But why buck tradition?" he added, the corner of his mouth turned up, and his mad eyes narrowed in gleeful anticipation. "So," he drawled, "we meet again, _Pharaoh_."

Atem wanted to very badly to march up to the criminal waste of air and slap him across his pale, smug face. Instead he tightened his fists and stood up taller and straighter. "Bakura," he responded brusquely. He allowed no expression to show on his face nor did he allow a single quaver to betray his confident bearing. Behind him, he felt more than heard Malik and Isis instinctively tense, and then begin to move away from him.

_Good,_ _the less conspicuous they are, the easier it is for me to get the thief to concentrate only on me._

Atem met Bakura in the middle of the roof top. Placing one hand nonchalantly on his hip, with the other arm, he held up his Duel Disk in silent challenge. Grinning, Bakura held up his own arm where he was wearing, as Malik had predicted, the exact same Duel Disk make and model.

"Your incredible foresight strikes once again." The ancient robber of tombs observed with biting sarcasm. "I half-expected you to show up with the old dueling system, oh how _do_ you do it."

Atem barely noticed it when a breeze kicked up and stirred the golden forelocks framing his sharp features. "In the world of a lost generation," he responded cryptically, "let us not forget what we are, and what our duties are to those we mean to protect. I consider _every_ possibility."

The oblique meaning of those words was not lost on the thief. "You always were a sucker for those annoying friendship speeches," he muttered. He held out his deck for Atem to take. "Shall we dance?" he sneered.

For several seconds, the two enemies shuffled in silence, never once removing his hostile gaze from the other. When Atem was finished, he smacked the deck back into its owner's hand, hard. Bakura grinned toothily, returned Atem's deck to him, and curled his tapered fingers over the edges of the cards of his own. "You're rather feisty this morning, _Pharaoh_," he commented amusedly over his shoulder. He returned to the other side of the roof. "Is there something on your mind? Perhaps, it's a certain, rather spineless, little boy who enjoys being hand cuffed to bedposts and stabbing ancient monarchs to death in his dreams?"

Blocking out the hateful noise as he returned to his side of the field, Atem did not look up from where he was carefully inserting his cards into the Duel Disk deck slot. "What need have I for thinking that when he stands here before me?" he replied dryly, tucking five cards between his slender fingers before neatly collecting them together with a smooth, practiced, rotating movement of his wrist. He smirked at the irritated reaction he caught out of the corner of his eye when Bakura realized it was _he_ to whom Atem was referring. He flipped the switch to Advanced Mode and held the card playing device for use.

"You can throw all the witty rejoinders my way all you like," the dark spirit began haughtily, imitating Atem's actions. "But I know you _well_, oh once and _past_ god king.* You don't boast half as much confidence as you think you do." Yami Bakura raised one arm ominously to the sky in an all-encompassing gesture. "Shall I call it or will you be doing the honors?"

In response, Atem took a deep breath. _I have to do this, it's the only way._ He reached out by reaching inward, to his center, until at last a darkly delighted cry emerged from the depths. When he opened his eyes again, he felt the stinging warmth of the Eye of Re lancing across his forehead. _It burns_, he frowned, and the action caused his eyebrows to draw together. He clenched his teeth behind his lips, gritting them against the unpleasant sensation. _It's never burned before… it must be because I no longer have the Puzzle._ He opened his eyes again when he heard Malik and Isis gasp. The roof of the high school had become lightly veiled in a purplish mist. It thickened until it blotted out the light, the nearby cityscape, and finally, the very sky itself.

Giving no notice to the dramatic change in their surroundings, Bakura gave a deep-throated, nasty chortle. "Hahaha! I see I'm not the only one who knows how to get to the back door to the Shadow Realm without the use of a Millennium Crutch! Of course, _yours_ was more _host-based_ than mine."

One eyebrow rose when he realized this taunt, too, had gone in one of his adversary's ears and out of the other. Not knowing what to make of this odd lack of a response, he busied himself with choosing his cards and setting his life point's indicator. He didn't notice what Atem had: Malik and Isis exchanging small, triumphant smiles with one another through the mist. They had noticed the slip.

Atem watched the menacing, whispery Shadows arch around and upon them restlessly.

"_I'll always come back if you call, _mou hitori no boku_," _Yuugi whispered from his memory from what was starting to feel like a lifetime ago._ "There's no cage sturdy enough in the world that can keep me from you."**_

Slowly licking his lips, the former pharaoh slid a card from atop his deck, turned it over, and set it into play. The holographic program downloaded the card's information, activated it, and then projected its image onto the battle field. He took a deep breath.

_Nor I you,_ aibou, _nor I you._

"Game start."

* * *

_One hundred and seventy-nine_.

That was how many missing posters Shizuka had plastered all over Domino City; one hundred and eighty if you counted the one she planned on putting up by her old high school. By now Yuugi's sweetly innocent face decorated everything: from pilings, to fishing shacks, to outlet stores, to public bulletin boards, to convenience stores, gas stations, and several residential neighborhoods. Her brother had held no reservations about remarking she had put up enough posters to cover just about two whole _cities_. Maybe he was exaggerating, maybe he was telling the truth. Shizuka believed that when it came to a missing loved one, no amount of any effort to find this person would ever be 'too much.' This was _their_ friend, _their_ Yuugi. Not many held a candle to Yuugi for anything, she'd stated proudly; a gentleman to a fault, one hell of a gamer, and the best friend you never knew you had until you were in a serious life or death pinch. The whole world could give a person up for dead but if Yuugi cared about that person, he was the only one who'd be crazy enough to hold onto faith of their being alive. And so would they.

With the last poster neatly rolled and tucked under her arm, Shizuka smiled and picked up the pace when the sight of her old high school (hers and Jounouchi's old high school, actually, since she'd found a way to transfer to Domino to be near her brother) came into view. A shout of her name from behind her made the girl halt in her tracks and glance over her shoulder.

"Hurry up, Honda!" she called out to him. "One more and we'll be done for the day."

Her brother's friend jogged to a stop beside the young woman and leaned gratefully on his knees to catch his wind. "I don't know where you get the energy," he complained between pants. "I'm whooped and I've done about the same amount of legwork." He straightened, smiling wearily at his former crush. She simply beamed back at him. "What's your secret?"

Shizuka held up a fist and thumped it against her heart while clicking the heels of her running shoes together. "Determination!" she said proudly, her pert face reflecting exactly that, "spirit, resolve, a will of fire, and a _really_ big breakfast!"

Honda chuckled at the last one. "Those would do it, I guess." He watched Shizuka stride up to the locked gates of Domino High and unroll the poster. He joined her a split second later to hand her the tape once she was satisfied with the position. For the first time, he really took in the photo, and began to rub his chin. "When was this taken?"

Startled, Shizuka blinked, and stared at him. "About a year ago, I think. It was the… only photo I could use, really." A sad smile flitted across her lips.

Now it was Honda's turn to stare at her. "Why is that?"

Shizuka looked back at the poster. "It was a picture he had taken with Aki in a photo booth. It… was the last one he let anyone take of him." She shrugged when he glanced at her in askance. "Don't ask me how I edited her out of it."

"Wasn't going to, I…" Honda trailed off, suddenly unable to look at her. "You're holding up really well," he finished awkwardly after an uncomfortable pause. "Considering Otogi…"

Shizuka folded her arms over her chest and turned her head so her ginger colored hair hid her face. "I try not to think about too much," she murmured. "I can't let myself go into that place… not yet… not until I know." She glanced at him when she felt the pressure of his hand fall upon her shoulder. Honda was smiling gently in spite of the ever-present apprehension in his eyes. "Do you think Otogi is…?" she began weakly.

"He'd be proud of you," he told her firmly, not letting her voice the unspeakable. "I know I am."

Shizuka smiled back, fighting the sudden sting in her eyes. "Thank you, Honda. I needed to hear that." She flicked a forlorn gaze back at the poster. "I wish I had enough money to make posters for Otogi," she confessed, unconsciously reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. "I-I thought with the news media coverage of his abduction, that was enough, but… now I'm starting to wonder if I haven't been doing enough, if maybe if I'd just…just…"

"Shizuka."

She stopped, chastened by the gentle admonishment in her friend's voice. "I know," she murmured, "I know, I just… I…" she gazed helplessly off into the distance, before she realized Honda seemed to be staring too. The emotions flashing across his face were first of inexplicable confusion, then dawning realization, before finally shuttering in fear. Shizuka opened her mouth to ask a question, even as she turned around to look up at what he was staring at so intensely. Her reaction was much more dramatic. She gasped, clapped both hands over her mouth, whilst her feet propelled her backward uncontrollably until it encountered the unmovable pillar of Honda. The contact of their bodies made the older man snap out of his shock to pulling out his mobile, and dialing.

"Hey man," he said when Jounouchi picked up, "you better get Anzu and get the hell over to Domino High School right now. I think someone's playing a Shadow Game on the roof."

* * *

Yuugi hadn't been aware he'd dozed off again until he was awakened by the sound of someone speaking loudly. He shot up with a gasp and whipped his head toward the voice. He relaxed immediately, realizing who it was. "Okay, the grand list of our gourmet options are…" Otogi was saying cheerfully, like a game show host. A hand popped into view of the doorway holding a can, followed shortly by the owner of the hand. His other hand held a different can, which he also presented to the room's occupant. "Canned peaches annnnd," he paused and squinted at the label, "something I can't read but the picture looks promising. I think it might be New England Clam Chowder." Unable to hold it back anymore, Yuugi began to laugh quietly as Otogi held out both cans with theatrical flair, as if he were doing a television commercial. "Wait, that's not all! Our _extensive_ menu also includes dried ramen, some rotten fruit that might have been bananas once, annnnnd –drum roll please - something that I _think_ was a rat before it died. I'm not sure." He shuddered. "I slammed the cupboard shut _really_ fast before I got a good look at it. I doubt it's edible but I'd just thought I'd mentioned that." He was grinning from ear to ear, watching his friend double up. For the first time Yuugi noticed Otogi appeared to have showered and washed up; he was looking significantly _much_ cleaner and more well-groomed than an hour before. "Anyway, get up already. I'm _bored_."

Otogi's levity was infectious. Yuugi, still laughing, shook his head and moved his legs over the side of the bed, happy to oblige. It was great to see Otogi taking their predicament in good spirits, and seemed to, at least for now, to have put his earlier melancholy and anguish behind him. Thus far, the morning was passing peacefully. In spite of the haunted house level spookiness of their small dwelling, it was quiet, it was safe, and best of all, according to Otogi, inspections of all windows indicated zero signs of their pursuers creeping up around the house. It appeared to have been an (almost) clean getaway. Yuugi didn't dare hold his breath – not just yet – but it was nice to be able to breathe without dust filling his lungs, move without his arms and legs being tied down, and stand up straight without getting dizzy.

"I'll be right out. I need to use the little girl's room." Otogi snickered. "Um, and I take it from your appearance and the soapy smell that this place has running water?" he supplemented hopefully.

"Yeah, thank it all!" Then his friend sighed, adding, "Buuut, no electricity, so you'll have to leave the door open if you want to do more than pee in the dark. It's weird that they would turn off the power but not the water. Just our dumb luck, huh?" Otogi pointed over his shoulder. "Bathroom's down the hall. Watch out for the Hummel figurines. I broke about three of those things just combing my hair."

Biting his bottom lip to keep another snigger at bay, Yuugi moved by him and headed down the hall. He didn't care if the entire house turned out to be a shrine to the _Precious Moments _collection, so long as he could do his business without someone staring at him with a gun shoved into his back. "I'm going to take a shower too and _maybe_ I can at least find a pair of jeans in this place," he announced over his shoulder. "These grandma clothes aren't doing it for me."

"You've gotta admit, though, you look pretty cute in them!" Otogi called over his shoulder at the other end of the hall. Then he poked his head back in and fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly. "You've always been adorable."

Yuugi quietly debated his reply, turned around and spoke very calmly to the devilish smirk that greeted him. "Fuck you."

He ignored his friend's jubilant howls of "I can't believe you said that!" behind him as he half closed the door behind him. _Wow,_ he thought, _that's a side to Otogi I've never seen before. In fact, I think we've _both_ been showing each other sides of ourselves we've never shown before. _

He was still grinning about it as he stood under the shower head in the half-dark bathroom, letting the clean, lukewarm water run over his body, washing away two weeks worth of blood, dirt, sweat, grime, and other things he'd rather just let swirl down the drain and out of his sight. As the water sluiced over his skin, he held up one arm and examined the too-slender wrist, still red, and now peeling. His ankles were in the same condition. With a groan, he realized that it was going to be a long time before the physical remnants of his time spent in torment and imprisonment were going to leave him. God only knew how the both of them were going to get through the rest of their lives after what they'd been through… and it wasn't over yet.

_No, not by far_. Yuugi made a fist and bit his lower lip, his eyes opening under the stream of water, narrowed in deliberation. The storm was only just reverberating on the horizon. This time he was going to be ready for it when it struck and not caught out in the down pour like he was the last time. Yuugi wasn't the sort of person that sought revenge, nor did he want to. On the other hand, if he was one thing, he was opportunistic. One way or another, Bakura _needed_ to be brought to an end. No more of his friends needed to go through when he and Otogi had just gone through.

He finished his shower, toweled off, and pulled on a pair of gray sweat pants that he found lying over the top of the door, presumably by Otogi, since they hadn't been there before. They were a little big on him so he had to draw the string extra tight to keep them from falling off his skinny (and sadly bony) hips. They weren't the jeans he'd wanted but beggars couldn't be choosers. He took a moment to stare down at his bare chest, concerned with the amount of rib showing. Yuugi had never been anyone who could pack on the pounds, and unfortunately for him, he lost weight a lot more easily than he gained it. No doubts there, he wrinkled his nose in distaste, he had a _lot_ of catching up to do.

_Speaking of which…_

"Hey Otogi, where are you?" he called out, stepping into the dim hall and looking down it both ways.

"In here!" answered his friend's disembodied voice. It was coming from a room down the hall to his right. Yuugi followed it and found himself standing in an old country kitchen, with wide open countertops and a lush oak cabinet inset… that would have been beautiful if most everything wasn't covered with about six inches of gray dust, cobwebs, and mouse droppings. He sneezed.

Otogi turned from the island counter, which had been hastily swept to some semblance of clean. He saw the bewildered expression on Yuugi's face and quipped, "Looks like my place at Halloween."

Surprised, realizing he was right, Yuugi's eyebrows lifted. "You know what, it really does." Cautiously he proceeded into the kitchen, side stepping the roaches that scattered to avoid his passage. Feeling sickened, he wished he had on a pair of shoes; heck _socks_ would have been preferable to bare feet in this situation. God only knew what else was living on these floors. His gaze fell briefly upon where Otogi was working, before immediately going to the kitchen windows.

"I already checked," Otogi spoke up as Yuugi let the tails of an ancient curtain fall closed again. "You don't have to worry." He held up a single digit when Yuugi moved over to the counter to finally get a good look at what his friend was doing. "I am," he proclaimed, "on top of everything… including breakfast."

Yuugi rounded the island counter opposite his friend and peered closely at the improvised concoction Otogi seemed to be throwing together. Two clean bowls held what appeared to be the aforementioned peaches. "What are you making?" he asked anyway.

Otogi nudged one of the bowls toward his friend. "These are still good. I can't do anything with the soup since we don't have electricity, unless you don't mind eating it the way it is."

Humming in thought, Yuugi picked up the unopened can and examined it. "There are more ways than one that we can heat this up. I vaguely remember glimpsing a fireplace out of the corner of my eye when I left the bathroom. We'll wait a little while longer, though, to make sure the coast is clear before we start sending out smoke signals." He set it down again.

Otogi shrugged and used a spoon to shovel the contents of his own bowl into his mouth. He rolled the fruit around in his mouth experimentally before swallowing it. He nodded. Reassured now and eager to eat his share, Yuugi proceeded. He was careful not to slurp, and took great pains to keep himself from gobbling it down too fast. He didn't want to vomit up the first real meal he'd had in weeks. Nevertheless, in spite of his care, he still must have been consuming the peaches too quickly. Otogi reached over and slowly forced Yuugi to lower the vessel away from his mouth. "That's enough."

"But Otogi, I'm not finished!" he protested.

Otogi was firm. "I know you're not, but you haven't eaten in _weeks_."

"Exactly, so…"

Shaking his head apologetically, Otogi held the food away again. "Yuugi," he warned, looking him straight in the eye, grimly. "You can eat the rest later."

With a disappointed sigh, Yuugi stopped grabbing for it and reluctantly lowered his hands in surrender. He knew what Otogi was getting at. He knew the consequences if he didn't maintain some sort of self-control. He mentally thanked Otogi for looking out for him – and them. He accepted the glass of tap water Otogi handed him and slowly drank. He exhaled through his nose rapidly in pleasure at the sensation of the cool water sliding down his parched throat; his released breath sounded hollow inside the glass. The water revitalized him and he felt his alertness levels begin to peak up again. The little bit of food and water had brought Yuugi's mind out of the mild fog it had been floating in for weeks. He had forgotten was it was like to be completely awake, to _be_ - and to _feel - alive_. Setting the glass down, he threw his friend a giddy grin before moving off to explore the rest of the house. Otogi followed his friend's noticeably bouncier movements with his eyes and cracked a small smile.

The first thing he jumped on was a (dusty) porcelain rotary phone he found sitting upon a small (dusty) maple stand near the front door. He immediately checked the cord and found it disconnected from the wall. He plugged it back in and picked up the receiver. Unfortunately, no matter how much he tapped, he could not get a dial tone. Muttering frustrated oaths under his breath, Yuugi glared down at the useless handset, hating it for not working. Logically, he realized he couldn't stay angry. It was a _foreclosed_ farmhouse, for Pete's sake. The utilities, save for the water, had been _shut off_. What _else_ could he have expected? They should just count themselves fortunate the owners had left all of their belongings behind. He glanced up at Otogi when he entered the room and put a question to him.

"I don't suppose you know how to hack into a landline?"

Otogi scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Heh, unfortunately, I don't. It's too bad we don't have any mobile phones handy. I know how to get past service providers. This stuff…" He gestured at the phone. "Not up my alley."

Yuugi's shoulders slumped, feeling mildly defeated.

Otogi eyed him suspiciously. "I sincerely hope _that_ wasn't the better idea you said you had for getting out of here?" He eyed his friend carefully. "You do actually have a better idea, right?"

"Um…"

"Yuugi! You said you had an idea!"

Flushing red with embarrassment, Yuugi folded his arms indignantly. "Well, I don't _like_ your hitch hiking idea," he retorted sulkily.

"It's better than sitting here waiting for Bakura's lackeys to find us." Otogi countered impatiently. "I'd really rather not stay here any longer than we have to, thank you very much." He glanced around the dreary dust museum they were standing in and his slender shoulders fell too. "I really hate the idea of leaving the place so soon, but I think we need to."

Yuugi was hard-pressed to argue with him. "Well, let's check around outside. I saw a tool shed in the back and there's a small barn some ways out beyond the property. Maybe we can find something useful in them." He folded his arms over his naked chest and shivered, affecting a sheepish grin. "But before we do that, let's find some better clothes. Much as I love you in kittens, they really aren't you."

To his amusement, Otogi turned beet red and bunched the material of the sweatshirt in one fist he was wearing so the kittens were distorted. "Honda never hears about this," he growled between his teeth, stabbing his other finger at the current Game King. "Got it?"

Yuugi pretended to zip his lips together and drew a cross over his heart and then mimed slitting his throat. Otogi smiled at the exaggerated display and slapped Yuugi on his shoulder affectionately. "Ow," he complained, wincing.

"Oh be quiet. I tapped you."

"You did not, that _hurt_." Yuugi stuck out his tongue. Otogi made a face back. Their pseudo hostility didn't last for long before they both suddenly cracked up. The euphoria of being free and not dead hadn't quite worn off and they were loath to let it fade from their moods so easily. "So which one do you want?" he began after they'd both calmed down. "The tool shed or the barn?"

"I'll flip you for it."

"We don't have a coin."

"I've got an old arcade token."

"That'll work. Heads is the shed and tails is the barn. I call heads."

Otogi tossed the coin in the air, and dramatically slapped the coin on the top of his hand before –also dramatically - uncovering it. "Ah-ha!" he crowed. "Tails! You get the barn."

"Rats."

"_Please_." Otogi grimaced with a shudder. "If I never have to hear that word again, it'll be too soon." He whipped off the kitten sweatshirt, balled it up, and tossed it onto a copiously dust encrusted chair. "Now that we have _that_ settled, I'm getting out of this travesty against male fashion."

* * *

_*A play on the title of _The Once and Future King _by T.H. White (1958)  
**A quote from a Yugioh vignette I wrote for a self-imposed writing challenge in my Live Journal entitled, "This Is How I Trust You." _


	32. Cat and Mouse

"**Cat and Mouse"**

Later Isis would think that it probably would have been better if Atem and Bakura had agreed to actual combat rather than choosing to settle matters using a card game. It was like watching two dogs fight over a bone, she mused. Every draw of a card was accomplished with clenched teeth, death-ray glares, and deep-throated menacing growls. With each successive assault to his life points, Atem trembled violently, his poise visibly shaken yet nowhere near broken. Tumultuous emotions ripped through his wiry frame, coiled taut and ready to snap at any moment. He proved a remarkable contrast to his opponent, whose composure remained infuriatingly relaxed and smug. It was clear that Bakura thought he had his enemy right where he wanted him, and thus felt confident of his chances of eventual triumph.

_And he _does_ have him right where he wants him_. Isis felt the pressure of it with an inborn sense of presentiment. She twisted the hem of one billowed sleeve anxiously. _Atem isn't thick enough to not see through his scheme, _she tried to reassure her doubting heart._ He _has_ to know what he's doing, he _must_._

The dark spirit jeered loudly from his side of the field. "I have to tell you this whole silent type act of yours doesn't suit you." He reminded Isis of a base ball player trash talking at a batter from the dug out, egging and grueling him on. "Where are the grandiose gestures or the sweeping declarations of impending victory? Or," he brightened, "have I finally managed to intimidate he who could not be intimidated? Frankly, I'd have to say," he sniveled down his nose at the other man, "I'm rather disappointed. I expected more of a challenge from _you_."

_Bakura enjoys the sound of his own voice entirely too much_, Isis thought with a disdain she was finding hard to keep off her face. But it was a proven tool for distraction, so she had to worry, regardless of how inadmissible she found much of what he was saying. Beside her, she listened to Malik grind his teeth and suck in his cheeks. Anymore of this and her brother was going to explode, and then they would be having a _real_ problem on their hands. There was only so much mockery toward his friend the young man could put up with, after all, and only so much that he was willing to forgive.

If anyone held a grudge well, it was Malik.

Thankfully, the target of the tomb robber's ridicule appeared untroubled by his adversary's puerile behavior. Instead the former god king leveled his calm, calculating defiant stare with his enemy's. "Is that what all of this is to you, Bakura?" He indicated their surroundings. "Cheap theatre designed to whet your appetite for the suffering of others?" A not-smile turned his lips up humorlessly. "It's nothing I should be surprised over. After all, this is you we are talking about." He removed a card and placed it facedown. "I end my turn."

Bakura's eyes shifted readily to his own hand and debated among his five choices. "What you fail to grasp," he replied almost conversationally, "is that what Duel Monsters is, my dear Pharaoh, _is_ cheap theatre, employed by arrogant supposed 'god men' like your father, and _you_!" He stabbed a finger at Atem accusingly. "The spawn of his loins, to choose who to judge and who to condemn: With_out_ mercy, with_out_ trial."

"_Choose_?" Atem was incredulous. "We punished the acts of criminals!"

"_We_ punished? _You_ punished the criminals!" Bakura roared back, his prior, pretense of enjoyment gone. The venom dripping from his words shocked Isis. "You let a piece of fucking gold that hung around your neck decide that! How could you be sure you were making a fair judgment? No! You let magical powers decide _that_ for you!" He shouted, hair on the fritz, appearing every bit as demented as he sounded. "You wanted to steal the souls of those you condemned to die for your pathetic blood sport – _this_ pathetic blood sport!"

Atem stared back at Bakura wordlessly. Even though his face showed no emotion, Isis could see that he tacitly knew what Bakura was really getting at. "We have been over this before," he replied quietly, evenly. "My father had not been made aware that an entire village of innocents had been sacrificed to create the Items. I was not around at the time of the tragedy of Kul Elna. You already know this, Bakura, you know _me_. You know if it had been my choice, my _time_, I would not have allowed for such a thing to have happened."

Shaking his head slowly, Bakura's eyes tapered into slits. "It's of no use to try to cling to contemptible promises and avowals long since past their due date, _Pharaoh_." He spoke quietly, his normally unbalanced tones fairly even. "So I did as I did as Zorc for all the reasons you already know," he brought his gaze up to meet Atem's again, "and for all the reasons I'm claiming now." He positioned his next card and waited for the disk to read and reproduce the holographic image. "One of us is going to the Shadow Realm," he added smugly, "_that_ goes without saying; however..." He smiled then. "I think we _both_ know who stands to lose the most from _this_ battle."

"He's playing with him," Isis exclaimed softly, speaking for the first time since the duel had commenced, shaking her head back and forth. "He's batting him around like cat with an injured mouse."

Malik glanced hastily at his sister with wide eyes, before numbly turning them back to Atem. Cupping his hands around his mouth, and taking a step forward, he shouted across the roof. "Hey Atem! Are you really going to let _that_ jerk talk to you like that? For the love of Re, you used to be a _god_! Act like one!"

Whether he had heard Malik's cry or this was his way of acknowledging it, neither Ishtar sibling could say for certain. He took a single step toward Bakura, the crimson hue of his eyes fiercer and the eye on his forehead more aglow with determination than Isis ever remembered seeing it. "Shut up and fight me," he commanded coolly, threateningly, the injured mouse sinking its front incisors into the soft pads of the predator's feet. "You thieving, lying, murdering son of a bitch."

At last a wide, genuine smile spread crookedly across the Thief King's face. "With _pleasure_, O Mighty Horus, with pleasure…" Then he flung his arm forward, and ordered his attack.

* * *

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Jounouchi shot up from where he'd been lounging on the loveseat in the living room at the Mutou residence. "For a second there, I thought you just said something crazy."

For the past hour the young man had been wracking his brains, trying to think of what more that he could do than what he'd already done in the massive search for his best friend. The tournament officials of Japan had contacted him twice today, and three times yesterday, virtually _begging_ the duelist to consider getting back on the pro circuit. They desperately plied him with promises: They'd sponsor him, they'd put up the money, they'd take care of anything he needed if he would just _do_ it. But he _still_ wasn't there yet… at _his_ proverbial _there_ yet, at any rate. Move on, and try to forget Yuugi? Move on, and just hope for the best and hope it all turned out okay? Move on, _period_? He didn't know – didn't _want_ to know – and he didn't want to choose – not yet. Fate was out of their hands this time; much as Lady Luck and Jounouchi had a steady, ongoing, healthy relationship, he wasn't too certain her skills extended beyond the dueling field.

Mai called him an idiot. He wasn't too certain she wasn't right about that.

Now with all of the madness going on, his second best friend and former partner in crime, decides to call him, saying shit that doesn't make sense anywhere in the neighborhood of logic.

"You _heard_ what I said, man!" Honda shouted into the receiver. "Since when was the last time I, Honda, called you with some BS story about Shadow Games?"

Jounouchi was already moving and getting himself together, without thought, doing what he had been told even while he questioned it. Still, insane things were worth repeating. "I know you don't screw around on me Honda but you're _positive_ it's a _Shadow_ Game? Are you _sure_?"

"_Yes!_" Shizuka had seized the phone – and proceeded to convince him of every high-pitched decibel of it. "There are dark purple clouds everywhere!" She practically shrieked. "We haven't even gotten inside the building yet and we can hear the sounds of a battle going on above our heads!"

Jounouchi finished shrugging his coat on and was snagging the keys to Anzu's rental off the coffee table. "All right," he relented, "ya convinced me, I'm on my way." He patted at his pockets, and shoved his deck in the back of his jeans as an afterthought. "Don' either one of you get to the top of that roof until Anzu 'n' me get there!" he then ordered just as Anzu appeared in the hallway, confused, her mouth forming a question and her hands spread in askance, waving, begging to know what was going on. "You _wait_ for us, understand!" He made choppy, hurry-up-_move_ gestures with his free hand. "NO HEROICS."

"Geez, man, we heard you the first time." Honda was back and he sounded pissed, and not just a little bit nervous. "Besides, _you_ ought to be the one to talk about heroics!"

Jounouchi remained undaunted. "Exactly! Then you know what I'm sayin.'"He tossed Anzu the keys and nodded toward the door. Anzu toed her sneakers on and pulled on a sweater. He hung up and yanked open the front door, plunging out after Anzu. He slid into the passenger seat and waited impatiently for his female friend to start the engine, adjust the mirrors, and properly put her seat belt on. "Come on, Mazaki!" He urged her fretfully. "This ain't no leisurely country drive! Step on it!"

Anzu blasted a frosty glare at him and didn't budge an inch. "Not until you tell me about what's going on."

It was best just to be blunt. "Honda and Shizuka are sayin' there's a Shadow Game goin' on above our old high school and we need'a get there right away."

Anzu nearly stood on the brakes. "_What?_" she screamed.

Jounouchi nodded. "I don't believe it either, but that's what they said. We'll know what's what when we get there." _If your driving doesn't kill us first_, he added mentally, although he knew better than to repeat that particular thought aloud. He liked his treasures right where they were thank you. "You got your deck?"

"Do I need it?"

"Anything's possible."

Anzu set her lower jaw stiffly and stared grimly at the road ahead of her. "I do, and for the second thing, _that_ certainly is more than true." She threw a quick glance at her companion while keeping her eyes looking straight ahead. "Who do you think it could be?" she pressed, desperate to fill in the space between them. "How many people do we know who can call a Shadow Game who isn't already dead?"

"It could be anyone." Jounouchi tossed his arms in the air. "In theory, accordin' to th' last convo I had wit' that Isis lady way back when, anyone with enough sense of the occult and a good grasp of magic coulda called it. We won' know neither way 'til we see 'em."

"Great." Anzu moved her shoulders around, seeming seized with a physical discomfort, as if a shiver had run down her spine. "I _knew_ I didn't have a good feeling about this," she murmured. "I should have known."

Thoroughly confused, Jounouchi frowned at her. "What are you talkin' about?"

Anzu made a right turn. "Yuugi and Otogi getting abducted, for one." She illustrated with one wrist lying against the wheel. "And for two, Kaiba goes jetting out of country in the middle of the search, and now, this morning, my friend Sarah calls me, tells me she can't explain why, but she said her boyfriend's come here, that she needs me to be 'on stand-by' and I asked her, for what, and she won't answer me. It's all just… Argh!" Anzu slapped the steering wheel. "Crazy!" She glanced at him briefly. "What are we missing, Jou? What signs did we fail to pick up on?"

Helplessly, Jounouchi shook his head. "I can't say. Wish I could. Shit's hittin' the fan if this turns out to be what Honda and Shizuka think it is."

"And we're about to become caught right in the middle of it. Crap." Anzu turned the last left and parked in the street near the school. "No pun intended." They both shoved out of the vehicle and made for the building at a fast clip. They immediately spied Honda and Shizuka. Both were standing right in front of the school entrance. They barely acknowledged their arrival before returning their entranced gazes to something happening – and there was _definitely_ something happening – on top of the high school.

Jounouchi frowned at the thick, roiling, thunderous purplish clouds that consumed the entire roof top area of the large building. Visible bolts of lightning broke up the pea-soup thick smog here and there. Their ears were filled with a cacophony of explosions, roars of unearthly beasts, and the occasional, faint sound of what had to be laughter.

Anzu moved her shoulders and ran her hands up and down her bare arms involuntarily. "I have a _really_ bad feeling about this," she uttered.

Jounouchi moved ahead of his friends and flicked his gaze over the gate in a cursory examination before turning to face his friends, who were now watching him expectantly. When he had become their leader, he didn't know; he almost demanded for them to stop looking at him the way they were… like he was someone who had the answers, who knew what to do. For the life of him, he hadn't the faintest clue, dammit!

_I'll jus' do what I always do: Wing it! Hope I do ya proud Yuugi!_

"We're gonna be smart about this," he told them, looking each and every one of them in the eye seriously. "We don' know what's goin' on up there and maybe we don' wanna know and it don' have nothing to do with us. If that's the case, we're bookin,' and that ain't up for discussion." They all nodded, to his immense relief. "This ain't nothin' we ain't seen before, guys, but we all know better than anyone that somethin' new is always brought to the table with these dark games. We know what it is to lose our friends to the forces of evil," he darkened, "and we ain't losin' anyone else."

Certain he had said all that he meant to say, and without waiting another moment, Jounouchi turned to the gate and, very nimbly, grabbed a section of it, and was up and over on the other side in seconds. Half a minute later, he unlocked the entrance from the other side, and let the rest of his friends in. Without speaking another word, they ran toward the school, even as another thread of maniacal laughter cut through the air.

* * *

Atem gasped as the force of the blast slammed against his body, forcing him to back pedal rapidly. Going with the momentum, he saw stars as his rear and head collided with the chain link fence. It rattled and shivered under the impact. Despite the fact he just got the wind knocked out of him, Atem was grateful, for if the fence hadn't been there, he surely would have been knocked off the roof. Agonized, he watched his life points cycle and cut in half once again.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. _This is much more than Shadow magic being wielded here, _he thought, _because there is no way a hologram can pack _that_ much of a punch._ _It seems Bakura has become a fully fledged practitioner of the blacker arts._ He sucked on his lips and winced from the sudden sting. He tasted blood from where he'd accidentally bit his lower lip during the collision. Without much thought, he spat it out. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked. Much to his dismay, it was the slim figure of Isis running toward him. Automatically, he whipped out his hand, palm facing out, to ward her off. The last thing right now he needed was interference.

"I AM OKAY!" he shouted, raising his voice above the dust and the din, as he climbed back to his feet with some difficulty. He had to hook onto the fence with his fingers in order to keep from stumbling to his knees again. Saddened to see that she had yet to respond, he turned his panicked eyes completely on her and thundered: "STAY _BACK_!" When he was certain Isis had retreated safely, he concentrated his attention back on Bakura.

The man was laughing again. _Laughing, always laughing!_ Clenching his teeth together so tightly his jaws ached, Atem searched the brume, and exhaled, relieved. Good, Osiris was still in play. While the thief's attack had been damaging to the player, the deity he'd summoned remained in the field.

"Come on, old friend, we are not finished yet," he murmured fondly to the blood red dragon towering over him. Osiris snarled gutturally, and moved his sinuous, thickly muscled, scaly body, anticipating his next strike. Another throaty, tiger-like rumble issued from the beast's throat, causing the roof top to shudder, the screws in the walls to vibrate, oppressing all who heard the great god's bellow.

Recapturing his bearings, Atem tried not to let his palpable exhaustion show as he moved bleakly toward his opponent. He hid none of the darkness and rage roiling within his heart and body; both seethed openly on his face, harshly outlined by the black liner accentuating his ferocious features. A thin smirk curled up the corner of his mouth. It seemed the last assault had winded Bakura. He was sweating profusely and panting, despite the mad jackal grin that threatened to split his hideous face apart.

"I hope that hurt as much as it looked like it did," he sneered, "because I sure do enjoy watching you bleed. I end my turn."

"For one who protests against the punishments of the pharaoh, you seem to harbor a certain taste for the practice yourself." Goading Bakura wasn't in his best interests, yet Atem was going to be damned if he was going to stand there and let himself be insulted in front of his friends. He took his turn, flipped over a trap card, and activated it. He closed his eyes briefly and dared to open up his mental channels. He reached out and searched until he found what he was looking for. At length, he opened his eyes, and he was the warrior-pharaoh once again.

* * *

It was seconds before Bakura issued the attack that blew his opponent against the fence Jounouchi, Anzu, Shizuka and Honda burst through the janitor's entry to the roof. Startled at the abrupt sound of the door behind them being slammed open, Malik and Isis spun around, and watched, astonished, as their four Japanese friends suddenly appeared before them. Jounouchi's hand was still on the door, the other balanced on a crooked knee as the two women, Anzu and his sister Shizuka, and the one man, Honda, piled by him. Their eyes immediately locked with one another's and the reaction was of instant shock and disbelief.

"You…!" Shizuka gasped, her wide, wide eyes going from one Ishtar to the other.

Honda just frowned. "But how…?" he began weakly and trailed off.

Anzu closed both hands over her mouth, her wide blue eyes scanning the scene before her. She was simply too astounded by what she was witnessing to formulate a single word.

"What the _hell_ are you guys doing here?" Jounouchi yelled for all of them, his shock mixing with the beginnings of anger and a sense of betrayal.

Isis fell into her placatory role and approached the four cautiously. "There is no time to explain," she replied urgently. "I can only beg of you to remain out of harm's way until this is over and I promise you all that you shall have your answers."

"Harm's way?" Anzu found her tongue. "What is going on? Tell us something!"

Malik opened his arms in a keep-back gesture, shaking his head firmly. "We can't. Just, please, trust us… trust _him_."

There was something in the way he said 'him' that made the four friends believe him. Anzu was the first to venture forth quietly, "Yuugi?" when she saw the great crimson maw of the dragon emerge from the purple fog, rumbling ominously. Without thinking, she surged forward. "Yuugi?" she repeated, close to a shriek, before Malik side-stepped in front of her, cutting her off, and seized her by the shoulders. "_Yuugi!_" She struggled with the young man until Malik managed to get the agitated woman to look at him.

"It isn't Yuugi," he informed her, before looking around her at the others, letting her go when Honda stepped forward to take Anzu's arm. To Jounouchi, who had remained silent and emotionless since his initial outburst, he desperately sought to reach. "Please."

Before anyone else could move or say another word, a blast of hot wind, air, and light sent something crashing up against the chain link fence. It shuddered violently from the collision. In the ensuing silence, they heard the low mutter of someone saying, "Shit." Then, as the mist cleared for a few moments, a young man appeared before them, struggling to stand. On his right arm he wore a Duel Disk.

The only person who reacted was Isis, who immediately moved to go to his aid.

"I AM OKAY!" The familiar thundering tones identified the man… a man Jounouchi and the rest of the gang thought had left this world for the next four years ago. When he lifted his great head, the distinctive blonde locks framing a tan, handsome, angular, almost feminine face, he saw the woman coming quickly toward him. He flung out one arm. "STAY _BACK_!"

Abruptly Isis halted, and reluctantly, did as she was told, although it was clear from the expression on her face, it pained her to have to obey. She bit her lips together tightly and threw a helpless look at Malik. "He cannot last!" she cried out softly, clasping her hands together tightly against her chest, accepting the comforting touch of her brother's hand on her arm.

"He can." Malik was undaunted, unwavering in his dedication, not taking his eyes off his brother for a second. "He did it before, he can do it again."

Jounouchi watched the man, _the_ pharaoh - _their_ pharaoh – as he wet his lips and spat off to the side. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or, god forbid, _dead_. He pinched his arm, hard, just to make sure. He yelped. Sticking a hand to his head, he raked his fingers through the messy locks, shaking his head in disbelief. "Un-fucking-real," he wondered aloud absently, almost to himself. Not getting an answer, nor expecting one, he helplessly watched the events unfold before him. Of all the things he had expected to find up here, this had _not_ been one of them.

"I hope that hurt as much as it looked like it did!" A voice called out sardonically from the other side of the roof, still obscured by the fog. "Because I sure do enjoy watching you bleed! I end my turn."

Jounouchi knew who it was before the skinny, pale haired former friend stepped into view. He narrowed his eyes even as jaws dropped to the earth all around him.

Atem – if it was indeed he because it sure as hell _looked_ and _sounded_ like him – responded to the jest with equal aplomb. "For one who protests against the punishments of the pharaoh, you seem to harbor a certain taste for the practice yourself."

"Oh don't flatter yourself, _Pharaoh_," Bakura called back indifferently. "Bitter much?"

Atem laughed, the response so unexpected of him, it curled the very hairs on the necks of his spectators. "Bitter? _I_?" He struck out his hand authoritatively, his awesome voice rising and falling with a warm wind surrounding them. "No, thief, a _bitter_ man is he who does not accept his fate and the things he cannot change." He shouted out the battle command and the great red beast surged to the fore readily toward his opponent's monster. "Besides…" he concluded more quietly, a familiar, arrogant smirk bringing up the corner of his mouth. "I have always been the master of _my_ destiny."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I had wanted to write an actual duel, but since I don't know how to write a card battle, nor has my search for aid from others have yielded anything helpful, I've done the best with what I knew. Any and all errors concerning the game play itself are my own._


	33. Would You Kill to Save a Life?

"**Would You Kill to Save a Life?"**

The force of the deity's attack met his opponent's with a resounding crash akin to thunder. The impact wave shoved Bakura clear across the roof. Unlike Atem, who had had no foreknowledge of the dark power behind his attack, Bakura anticipated the recoil. He immediately leaned into the blow and dug in his heels. He still skidded back, his sneakers scraping loudly against the concrete, but he didn't fall over. Instinctively he slammed the palm of his free hand down flat the second he felt himself begin to lose traction. The tails of his black coat whipped smartly, graceful as a flag, billowing behind him. It left his fingertips raw and his palms bleeding. However, he appeared to hardly notice his injuries. He waited it out, before slowly rising to his full height once again. The murderous intent on his face confirmed it; all it would take now was one of them to say it aloud and make it a reality.

"That isn't Ryou." Anzu watched the white haired man stagger a few steps forward. "Is he?" she inquired tentatively, seized by doubt. She began looking around at everyone, hoping against hope she was wrong. Her gaze linked with Isis's. "Isis?"

To her dismay, the Egyptian woman slowly shook her head. "No. Ryou…" She bit off the rest of what she planned to say, making herself look away from the blue gaze threatening to drown her in its anguish. "Ryou," she started again, regretfully, "hasn't been Ryou for a long time now."

Ever the pragmatic one, Honda was the first to truly grasp – and accept - it. "Bakura," he stated with finality, looking from one ancient man to the other, nodding, as if that explained everything.

Jounouchi was next, although he wasn't so accepting. "_Bakura_?" He spat the name. "You mean the _Thief King_? How the hell did _he_ manage to survive after the pharaoh kicked him into oblivion?"

"That is because he did not enter oblivion." Everyone glanced at Atem, surprised he had been listening. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on his opponent as he continued. "Somehow he found a way to remain in this world, although I cannot fathom how as of yet." To Bakura, he spoke, lifting his voice to be heard above the din of their battle. "Your life points are down by more than a quarter. Have all of your contingency plans failed already?"

"On the contrary," Bakura replied, smirking, smooth as ice cream, "I have hardly begun."

Atem solicitously rested his slender fingers upon his deck and calmly drummed them. "Before you do," he added lazily, "allow me to put a question to you. I'm dying to know. What were you doing before I returned from the Land of the Dead? What would you have done had I _not_ been revived?"

Bakura grinned wryly. "Oh, any one _number_ of things, the true crown jewel being Mutou, of course. The little shit was still strutting around like he was some kind of comic book hero. But," his eyes gleamed wickedly, "I've fixed _that_."

Everyone felt their stomach plunge to earth, dragging open jaws, and bringing shoulders down along with them, as the implications of that declaration sank in. Yet no one else felt its impact more than Anzu. In the throes of her worst fears, and out of the genesis of Bakura's words, she saw Yuugi – their dear, sweet Yuugi - trapped in a cold, dark place. Salty tears streaked down his sweet, round face, bound helpless, and in pain, writhing under Bakura's wrath like a worm impaled on a fish hook. Rage and hatred coursed through her veins, hot, licking… potent. She was hardly aware of what she was doing after she started to move toward Bakura, clenching her hands into two trembling fists, raising them, as her feet propelled her along. The protests of her name went unheeded until a confident, booming voice froze her in place… and the funny thing about it was he only needed to say it once.

"Anzu."

In the midst of her outrage and despair, Anzu stopped and turned her head. When she did, their gazes collided, and the affect it had on them both was immediate and profound. A litany of emotions and words without form passed through the depths between them; all of the could-haves, the maybes, and the what-ifs. There were also the right-nows, the realizations of how things were and how things are, of softly veiled joy and recognition. Of a good-bye never said, of tears shed and unshed, of feelings never discussed, and of the resonant hammer of too little, too late, the world is ending, it's not fair, _it's not fair_.

With a savage sort of yank, Anzu managed to wrest her mind back to the present. Unable to bear the scrutiny of that terrible and beautiful blood-red gaze, Anzu withdrew. From the corner of her eye, she saw Atem give her a tiny, approving nod. It was gratitude, an acknowledgement, a promise.

It was all she needed to see.

Oblivious to the signals buzzing through the air like flies, Jounouchi surged forward. "What the hell did ya do to Yuugi you freakin' psycho?" he belted out at Bakura. "Tell us where he is!"

Ignoring the feral eyed man Bakura took a deep, satisfied breath, relaxed, indulging in his upper hand. "Ah _Pharaoh_, quite the turn out today, wouldn't you say?" He whipped out the next card with dramatic flair and slapped it into the play.

Jounouchi glowered, enraged at being disregarded so thoroughly. The placating grips of both Honda and Malik upon his shoulders seemed to remind Jounouchi he needed to keep his head. Gradually he gently shrugged their hands away, stepping back.

As she watched Bakura's next card summon materialize and proceed with its battle movement, Anzu gave a start when cool fingertips grazed her upper arm. She glanced over to see Shizuka standing by her side, smiling up at her. "He'll be all right," she began at length. "He's been through worse hasn't he? When he was Yuugi?"

Anzu nodded without once taking her eyes off the field, where Atem had once again fallen to one knee, cowed by the new assault. "More than you or I could ever know," she murmured.

"Then we've got to believe in him too… as we always have."

Finally fully looking at her, and feeling a little surprised at her friend's insight, Anzu gave the younger girl a smile of her own. _I don't think I could ever truly doubt him, not for a single second…_ Encouraged by Shizuka's optimism, and the birth of her own, Anzu called out between cupped hands: "Go, Atem, go! We're with you all the way!"

"Yeah!" Shizuka followed suit, clapping and cheering. "You can do it!" Taking their cue from the girls, Jounouchi and Honda too began whooping and hollering their support. "Yeah man, kick his butt back to the Stone Age!" Amidst the rising tide of camaraderie, Malik and Isis exchanged sly glances, their silent approval evident.

A moment later, Atem was back on both feet, and reengaging in the duel with more focus and ferocity than ever before.

* * *

"Ah-_CHOO_!"

Yuugi decided he didn't like barns, especially old barns with about a billion layers of dust on every conceivable surface, and in every conceivable corner. _You know, I think I've just about had it with all this dust, _Yuugi grumbled inwardly, kicking away various odds and ends, his worn shoes hardly making a sound as they moved across the floorboards. _If I never have to see another floating mote again, I think I'd die a happy man. _His only consolation was Otogi was probably having the same experience in the shed not too far away from here. Misery loved company, as it always went; maybe far _too_ much company in their case.

The barn wasn't very large, little more than being the size of a small aircraft hangar. As with the farmhouse, all of the owners' possessions were still there. There were a few bales of hay stacked in one corner and a couple of half empty sacks used for feed still hanging on the walls. The animals had been long vacated. Only a few saddles and a couple of stirrups remained to indicate the past presence of horses. Most of the farm equipment Yuugi found were rusted beyond use or had fallen into disrepair. A corroded, antiquated tractor with flat tires and a broken axle sat mournfully in one dark corner. There were also a few rakes, a couple of spades, and a single coil of rope. When Yuugi tilted his head back to examine the ceiling, he discovered white spatters of bird scat on the upper beams, signifying this was a popular evening roost. A few red squirrels scampered in and out of holes in the roof and along the floorboards, chattering and barking at one another agitatedly. Yuugi gave an involuntary smile when he saw two of them get into a scuffle over a piece of food. They chased each other until they'd exited through a hole in the wall. The ruckus startled a few rats from their dark hiding places, sending them scrambling for new ones.

Turning around in a full circle, Yuugi sighed and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Damn," he whispered under his breath. Well, he thought, no helping for it, there wasn't a thing he or Otogi could use in here. He honestly hadn't known what he had been expecting to find in an abandoned barn. He started to make his way back to the open doors. Hopefully his friend had had better luck with the shed.

A familiar distant sound made him slow his steps, stop, and listen. He concentrated on the noise, trying to place it, and slowly his pulse began to pick up. He _knew_ that sound _of course_ he knew that sound! Growing up in a city, it was a sound no urbanite ever forgot – not for ten years, not for twenty. And it was coming _here_.

Reaching for the double doors he'd left ajar, he pushed them open a little further, and then he poked his head out. He peered left, and then right, trying to ascertain which direction it was coming from. He scanned the terrain and squinted into the distance. The old farm property was a scant couple of miles from the river; the land it was built upon was very flat and even. Most of the perimeter was screened in on all sides by forest, with no actual roads leading in or out of the area.

Yuugi's mind began to race with his heart. It would take at least five minutes, if he ran, to reach the farmhouse, ten more if he took a detour to warn Otogi. The land linking both domiciles was open and flat, and grassy, which would make it easy to see anyone going between either the barn or the shed, unless they were standing directly in front of the house.

_Maybe it's the owners?_ He bit the inside of his cheek. _Or_ _maybe it's a real estate agent coming to check on the condition of the property?_ These wild hopes fell flat in the face of who it _had_ to be. Who _else_ could be looking for them way out here? Who would _deliberately_ drive out to a derelict farmhouse in the middle of howling nowhere if they didn't think they might find something there?

His dreaded suspicions were confirmed when a black car appeared – the same car Yuugi remembered being shoved in so many days ago from betwixt the trees. They had been closer than he'd judged and had emerged from the forest from the _opposite_ direction. Gasping, Yuugi propelled himself backward into the barn and closed the door behind him. It was too much to hope he hadn't been seen, the car had been too close, and had been facing his direction. And it _was_ them: he wasn't ever going to forget what the black car he'd been abducted in looked like. He saw that damn thing in his _dreams_ and he was sure he was forever going to have a phobia about black cars for the rest of his, probably now shortened, life.

His gaze darting all around, Yuugi held the barn doors closed, debating his options in the shafts of sunlight poking through the cracks of the building. Otogi had the gun – he'd seen the other man tuck the thing into his pants after they'd changed into the clothes from the attic. Six round chamber, five bullets left, three men, four if Bakura had returned from wherever he'd gone. He tentatively opened his mind and probed around delicately, ineptly, unused to navigating psychic channels without prompt. If Bakura was indeed out there, surely he would have sent a telepathic e-mail to Yuugi reminding him gleefully of his eventual recapture? He wouldn't put it past him. If ever there _were_ a perfect opportunity to get in some prime time gloating, it was now. But he didn't seem to be with them.

The car pulled to a stop outside, probably somewhere between the barn and the shed. Yuugi prayed Otogi knew what was going on and was staying low. If Otogi could get away, then that would be all right.

Shadows of footsteps, along with the swishing sounds of feet through grass, approached the barn. He could hear them talking, and his stomach plummeted when he recognized the voices of the men who had kidnapped them.

"Saw the freaky haired brat run into the barn. Dice Boy may still be around so watch your back."

"Shouldn't we split up? I doubt it'll take _three_ of us to take down that squirt."

"You're right. These guys have the fighting skills of a couple of teenage girls. I'm surprised they made it out this far."

"But they shot Ushio… and they tied _him_ to the bed!"

"Dude, I told you never to mention that again!"

"True, they only have one gun. One of them has it. I'm willing to bet Mutou is too chicken shit to hold a gun so I'm betting on the Otogi kid having it."

_Shit,_ Yuugi thought in a panic, _shitshitshit!_ There had to be something he could do to protect-_The rope!_ Yuugi hauled himself away from the doors and snatched the coil off its hook on the wall. Threading it through the iron hand holds, he made an efficient knot, and stood back, staring at it. _Please, oh please, let this be enough!_

He muffled a yelp when one of them tried the door. Both went inward, caught, and then held. They tried it a few more times, yet still the rope held. A litany of curses and oaths filled the air. While they continued to struggle with the doors, Yuugi kept his eyes looking, trying to see if there were anything he could have missed. He ran over his options. _Rakes, spades, or trowels, rakes, spades or trowels, it's got to be one of them Mutou, this isn't a movie, just pick one! _His turmoil ended at the rake.

Crude, but hopefully, effective. Yuugi rushed over and seized it in both clammy, sweaty hands, casting his terrified gaze back to the doors, steadily weakening under the blows of Bakura's henchmen. Spinning round, he sucked in his breath and panted, holding the rake for use like a lance or a bow. He was ready. He still jumped, though, when his abductors grew tired of struggling with the door, and having found no other way into the barn, resorted to a last fail-safe strategy.

They started firing at the door hinges. They concentrated primarily on the right side and kept at it until the wood gave way and both the top and bottom hinges loosened and broke off. By that time Yuugi had retreated to the furthest side of the barn and huddled down inside one of the horse's stalls. Doing that was prolonging the inevitable; however, Yuugi wasn't so keen on giving up so quickly. Not after he'd fought so hard for so long.

_They have guns, and I have a blooming _garden tool_,_ he thought, berating himself as the sweat streamed into his eyes, down his neck and quietly heaving chest. "I hate violence," he whispered in a soft squeak as he watched three sets of boots move across the floor from under the stall door. He could see their shadows casting before them. He swallowed, steeled, sucked in his breath again, and turned the rake around and held it like a spear, tines pointing out.

One last time he pulled the photo from his pocket. He had kept it hidden in his clothes, forgotten, until he had changed into his new ones, and was emptying the pockets of his old rags. It was crinkled and faded from its ordeal in the river, Mai's message blurred into one giant ink blot mess. But the smirking face of the happy stranger on the tourist ship was still clear. Yuugi closed his eyes briefly and ran his thumb over the stranger's face – a stranger who he believed in his heart was no stranger at all from the moment his eyes had fallen upon him.

Very clearly, he silently spoke from his heart.

"_There are a lot of things I should have said in that final moment before you walked through those doors, and in another second, it's not going to matter anymore, but I just wanted to tell you – if you're out there, if you hear me, wherever you are, in the afterlife, or somehow in this one - I loved you more than I ever loved anyone… and I am so sorry I never realized that until now." _

He took a deep, quiet breath to contain a sob, and then shoved the photo back into his pocket. _Good bye Mama, Jounouchi, Anzu, everyone… I would have liked to have seen you all one last time. _

When the stall door opened, Yuugi's eyes were dry.


	34. The Art of War

"**The Art of War"**

In the split second everything ended, Atem closed his eyes. He felt the start and the finish of things. He saw himself gazing over the city of Cairo the morning of his resurrection and the milky ghost of his breath leaving a faint imprint upon the cool window pane. He was hearing the stern lecturing of Malik, pointing at the dashboard and the bump on his head. He was recalling the way Isis smiled as he peered over what she was cooking on the stove, laughing as he jerked back his hand after she slapped it. Then he was diving into his passion with Sarah in the hotel, taking the plunge into silver silk and satin skin, hearing her soft voice and the quiet of the rain. He was hearing the desperate pleas from Yuugi's mind, reaching, clawing out of the depths of his torment. Then he felt himself go further past those moments, beyond the inception of his second chance, and he was watching the doors of afterlife open. He watched as he took his final steps into white oblivion, listening as a small but strong voice called after him, full of tears, warmth, happiness… and love.

A howl of abject disbelief and rage emerged from Bakura even as he watched his life points cycle to zero beneath his disbelieving gaze. The dark spirit shrieked, and mindlessly tore at his hair, rent at his features. Rivulets of blood followed the scratches left upon his cheeks, dripping down his chin and face. His eyes grew wild and unfocused dull with denial and far-away… almost as if he had become removed from his madness to the extent that he literally _drowned_ within it.

_I wish you could have let me help you._ He gazed upon his enemy with a pitying disdain. He almost felt sorry for him. _But that is the sad fate of one whom embraces the darkness of his choosing. If he does not reach for the light, he will never know what it feels like to have the sun on his face. Passing from this world would be blessing for one such as he, not a punishment._

"'_If you know your enemy and you know yourself_,'" he murmured, "'_you need not fear the results of a hundred battles_.'"

Yami Bakura paused in his howls and stared at him from behind the cage of his fingers, wheezing heavily. "Wh-What?"

Solemnly, Atem disarmed his Duel Disk and laid his other arm over the top of the device. At length, he stared back at his sullen foe. "Maybe you should have listened to Sun Tzu before you challenged me, Bakura," he told the crumpled form of his enemy. "This… might have gone better for you."

Yami Bakura's eyes went first to the shining eye in the middle of Atem's forehead before meeting his glare once more with an affronted glower. "You never cease to preach your superciliousness," he growled, bloodied and defeated, dragging the back of his hand absently across his lower lip. "Do you know what the real tragedy is here? You honestly believe you're better than me." When Atem said nothing, and only raised his palm outward toward the other man to inflict the Penalty, Bakura smirked triumphantly. "Heh! It doesn't matter. I've won where it counts. It was a long shot… but I knew it would come to this. Remember that contingency plan you asked me about?" He tapped his temple with his index finger. "Funny that you should say that about Sun Tzu, huh?"

Feeling his heart and lungs twisting more and more tightly within, Atem eyed him closely, wary of his cryptic dialogue. "What are you talking about?"

Bakura chuckled and delivered his last devastating blow. "Before we began our battle, I ordered my men to kill the midget and the Black Crown brat at sunrise." He smiled thinly and gestured with his eyes to the dissipating cloud cover. Shafts of sunlight began to poke down around them. "They've been dead for _hours_!" He began to laugh uproariously, throwing back his head. He screamed with delight when Atem ripped off his Disk, rushed at him, and hauled him up by the scruff of his shirt. He slammed him against the chain link fence hard. "Ah-_HA_!" he thrilled lustily. "I knew you couldn't fool me! I _knew_! HAHAHAHA!"

Atem transferred one of his hands to the man's throat, ignoring the protests of his friends, who now seemed distant and unimportant, just as they began to run toward him. "Stay in the darkness forever and _never_ return to this body," he growled darkly between his clenched teeth. He released the man roughly and put his other hand over the man's face. Immediately Bakura slumped to the ground in a boneless heap. Stepping back, Atem stared down at his limp form impassively before turning away. The Eye on his forehead dimmed, closed, and then disappeared without a trace. The clouds cleared out, allowing the sunshine to flood the rooftop once again.

Unexpectedly, Bakura raised his head with a violent jerk, sucking in the breath of someone who has been awakened, startled, from a long sleep. The moment he became cognizant, his round, wide, terrified eyes filled and glazed over with tears. Next he began choking and desperately reached out to grasp the other man's pant leg. Mutely, Atem jerked his leg back, and didn't – wouldn't - look at him, letting the curtain of his forelocks hide his face. Loosening his grip, Ryou instantly shrank against the fence, covering his face, his body shaking from the powerful sobs that began to wrack it. He didn't stop, not even when Malik appeared beside him and offered him his arm and his shoulder for support.

By that time Atem had already walked to the opposite end of the roof, ignoring the stares and questions of his friends as they parted and stood aside to let him pass. Hooking onto the fence with his fingers Atem hung on and pressed his forehead against the links. His pellucid gaze rested upon the horizon, glazing, unseeing, unfocused. He made a fist, drew it back, and slammed it against the fence several times, each strike harder than the last.

"Nothing," he muttered in a near growl, "I could do _nothing_." His knees buckled and carried him to the ground. He barely noticed the tentative approach of Anzu standing behind him. "Now," he whispered, fighting the stinging wetness in his eyes, dimly aware of her kneeling beside him, "we are where neither belongs, and alone as ever."

"What do you mean?" Anzu asked, her voice sounding as fragile as he felt. "What happened? I thought Bakura lost? You won the game? I don't understand."

Did he win the game? Atem smirked and exhaled a laugh that was anything but. If you called this entire farce of narcissism, arrogance, and ego stroking a win, sure, he won it. And you know what? It didn't mean a damn thing. _Not a damn thing._ At last he looked at her; the expression on his face must have been frightening, because Anzu's own became uneasy. He grinned at her tightly and the falsity of it seemed to scare her even more. The concerned hand hovering over his shoulder began to retract.

"Atem…" Anzu was growing teary, confused, and frustrated by his odd behavior. "Is Yuugi…?"

Atem opened his mouth to reply, not really knowing just _what_ it was he planned to say, when suddenly a very clear thought entered his mind, unbidden, completely out of the blue, a voice warm, sincere, and free of fear, anger or regret.

"_There are a lot of things I should have said in that final moment before you walked through those doors, and in another second, it's not going to matter anymore, but I just wanted to tell you – if you're out there, if you hear me, wherever you are, in the afterlife, or somehow in this one - I loved you more than I ever loved anyone… and I am so sorry I never realized that until now."_

Atem's mouth fell open and he stared straight ahead, not seeing anything, not hearing anything, completely consumed by the voice in his head, and by what it meant, before - quite unexpectedly - blacking out.

* * *

The astonished kidnapper only had enough time to stare at him with bugged out eyes, his gun hanging almost limply from his fingers, before the tines of the rake connected with his throat and punctured the skin. The gun dropped and clattered across the floorboards with a loud _thunk!_ Instinctively, Yuugi scooped up the pistol, and pointed it out ramrod straight at the other two men who came running from their explorations to see what the noise had been about. They were as surprised as Yuugi was to see their companion lying unconscious in the stall across from the one Yuugi had been hiding in.

When they saw the smaller man holding the confiscated gun, they swiftly brought up their own firearms. Yuugi just had enough presence of mind to duck back into his previous hiding place. He had to hold both hands over his ears to block out the loud gunshot reports. At what time those ceased, he poked his weapon over the top of the stall and fired rapidly three times. Dimly he heard the other two men curse loudly, and Yuugi only had just enough time to pancake his body on the ground flat, before more bullet holes turned the stall into a piece of wooden Swiss cheese. A warm wetness trickled down his scalp and then dripped down the side of his face from where one of the bullets had grazed him. He stayed down for several heartbeats before springing to his feet again and firing.

"SON OF A -!" One of the men went down, staggering, clutching his arm. Yuugi's mouth started to drop open, horrified at what he had done, only just barely shifting his gaze to the other man who pointed his weapon at Yuugi with a look of absolute fury on his face. He began to squeeze the trigger, and in that instant, Yuugi knew he was dead.

The shot was fired… only it wasn't from the last man's gun. He appeared startled, then confused, before he collapsed to the ground in a great heap, clutching his injured side with a heavy groan. Yuugi watched the man fall, dumbfounded, before he slowly looked up.

Standing in a bright silhouette framed by the doorway was Otogi, both hands wrapped around his smoking revolver. His bottle green gaze was intractable and focused. He surveyed the scene before him quickly, and then strode forward, gun still pointed at the man he'd just shot.

"Don't move!" he commanded the stricken man, kicking his gun out of his fumbling reach. "Yuugi," he intoned brusquely, "take their guns."

His voice finally snapped Yuugi out of his bewilderment. He obeyed swiftly, scrambling for the guns of the other two men. He put the safety on each of them, removing their clips, before putting them aside. By that time he had the presence of mind to check the stall that had been across from his, pointing his gun at the other man, who had regained consciousness. Thankfully, he only held up his hands in surrender, and did what Yuugi told him to do. Then he instructed for Otogi to take the rope from where it was still tied to the broken doors of the barn. Together they forced all three men to sit back to back on the floor around one of the wooden support beams while they looped the rope around them over and over again before tying it securely.

That completed, they silently poked and prodded the injured, cursing men until they found what they were looking for: mobile phones. There were three of them. To the two men, it was like finding water in the middle of the Saharan wasteland.

Otogi grinned widely as he handed one of the phones to Yuugi. "This is the only one who has service out this far. Do you want to do the honors?"

Yuugi's hands were shaking. He swore he was about to hyperventilate. "W-Watch them," he stammered weakly. "I-I'm going to g-go outside, I think-I think I'll get better reception."

Holding the phone reverently, staring at the lit screen with pure awe, Yuugi walked out into the country sunshine. His heart was thumping, fear and joy warring with one another ruthlessly. It was a no brainer who he should call first, of course, but he wasn't sure he could handle the emotional barrage right now. He'd have to eventually, just, his nerves were still shot to all hell and he was still having trouble processing everything that had happened back there _had_ actually happened. _I should call someone who can find us, because I know the police might not have or be able to fi… Wait. I know._ The corner of Yuugi's mouth turned up and he shook his head as his thumbs dialed the number with practiced rapidity and after that he put the phone to his ear. It seemed to ring _forever_, even though he knew in reality, it only rang three times.

"Kaiba."

Spirits lifting, soaring, and the knot in his gut dissolving into so much nothingness, Yuugi breathed, feeling a hurricane of relief he hadn't realized he was capable of feeling. "Kaiba, it's me, I mean, it's me, Yuugi."

There was a long silence. Then: "If this is another prank call, know that I will _bury_ you in litigation so deep, you're going to _wish_ you'd…"

Yuugi smiled and suddenly he felt as if his bones had transformed into cooked noodles. "Kaiba, listen, it's _not_ a prank call. It's me. I'm okay and Otogi too."

There was another long, weird pause before… "Yuugi? Well, I just… Damn. Are you all right? Where the hell are you?"

"I just said I was, and actually, I was hoping you could use your satellites to find us. You won't believe this but _we_ don't even know where we are. Some farm out in the middle of nowhere is about all I can tell you."

"Hold on." The sound of a keyboard being tapped could be heard in the background. "Stay on the line and I'll be able to triangulate your precise location."

Yuugi chuckled. You had to appreciate Kaiba and his getting-down-to-the-wire approach to life. When there were things that had to be done, there wasn't time to waste on things like idle chitchat and howdy-dos. If you gave Kaiba a mission, then by the gods, he was going to put his nose to the grindstone from the get-go. Normally this used to annoy Yuugi to no end, however; in this case, he found himself feeling grateful for it.

So Yuugi waited, and while he did, he approached the dreadful black car – which was not so dreadful just sitting there in park with its engine turned off. Suddenly seized by a notion, Yuugi ran to the half-open door of the driver's side and pulled it all the way open. Bending halfway into the vehicle with one knee pressed into the seat cushion, he rapidly scanned the interior, and cried out happily: "Yes!" when he saw what he'd been hoping to find. "Kaiba," he spoke urgently as he slipped the rest of the way in, and picked up the small device and navigating the small touch screen with deft taps. "I've got this car GPS. But it looks pretty old so I can't be one hundred percent sure of the accuracy of its maps. Just tell me where we are, and if I can match it on here, then I think we can try to come home on our own." Another thought occurred to him. "I'll need to contact the police too," he added. "We managed to get free from our kidnappers but two of them are badly injured and need medical attention."

"Are they critical?"

"I'm not sure. I shot one of them in the arm and Otogi got the other guy in the hip."

"You _what_?" Kaiba sounded incredulous. "What do you mean you shot… what the hell happened?"

"It was in self-defense." Yuugi defended miserably. "They were shooting at us first."

Kaiba made one of his noncommittal grunts. "I believe you. All right," he announced tersely a second later, "I have you in position. Relay to me your location."

"Longitude and latitude I guess?" Yuugi was enjoying their 'nerd talk' as Jounouchi liked to call it. "It's all this thing'll tell me."

"Yes."

Yuugi read off the coordinates. "Do they match yours?" he queried hopefully.

"Affirmative." Yuugi smiled again, liking the note of gladness in the normally indifferent man's voice. "Do you think you have enough gas?"

"Maybe." He ducked his head down to read the dashboard meter, remembered that in order to be able to read it, he had to turn on the ignition, which was easy to do since the keys had been left in the car. Then he checked the meter again. _Crap_. He felt crestfallen. "There's barely a quarter of a tank in here," he reported bleakly.

"Huh." Kaiba responded gruffly. Another keyboard tapping filled pause. "Then I suggest you stay where you are instead of trying to get out of there on your own. I'll give the police your location but you need to contact them to prove you're alive."

"All right, we'll do that." A pause. "Kaiba…" he started, trailed off and then he just let himself say it. It wasn't like he was going to hold it against him later. "It's unbelievably good to hear your voice."

Long pause. "Hn." Kaiba sounded like he didn't know what to do with that one. "When we get a chance to talk alone, we're going to have to discuss expanding your benefits package. I'm not certain my payroll department covers incidences of employee abductions."

Yuugi bit his bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing. Trust Kaiba to not only completely ignore a sentiment but to evasively maneuver around it by changing the subject. So playing along, he sat back comfortably against the driver's seat, and folded one arm behind his head. "I'm surprised. You'd have thought after all of those times your brother's been kidnapped, adding on that option would have been your first priority."

"Don't get cute with me, Mutou." From his tone, after speaking in private with the man so many times, Yuugi could hear the small smile in the man's voice. "I've fired others over far less. Now call your mother. You have no idea how many times that woman has contacted me since you disappeared and I'd rather not destroy the lines of the communications between us by adding her to my Do Not Call list."

Yuugi dearly wanted to dive through the phone and give his rival and boss a huge bear hug. He'd just have to settle for doing it in person - and then he'd probably be safer if he did it through Mokuba. "Seto," he said softly. "Thank you."

Kaiba didn't respond for a long time. Then he replied, very quietly, "… You're welcome, Yuugi."

Yuugi hung up with a soft smile, gave the phone a fond stare, before punching in another number.

"Hello?" answered a woman's voice.

At once, Yuugi sat up in his seat and leaned forward eagerly, heart pounding. "Mom, it's me, it's Yuugi. I'm okay. I'm…" He sighed contentedly, smiling as he said, "I'm coming home."


	35. The Day That Nobody Died

"**The Day That Nobody Died"**

It was Anzu's shriek for help that drew everyone's attention away from the traumatized Ryou -and to the fact their pharaoh had inexplicably checked out on them.

"What happened?"

Everyone watched anxiously as Isis lifted Atem's head and cushioned it on her lap, checking his pupils, his pulse, and his breathing. Anzu hovered fretfully, albeit not too closely, not wanting to crowd Atem. Isis already seemed annoyed at everyone leaning in and even motioned a few times for Jounouchi and Honda to step back. Malik knelt on the opposite side of his friend's limp form in quiet assessment.

"I thought this might happen," the head of the Ishtar clan murmured thoughtfully, "though I am still shocked it did." Looking up into the perplexed faces of her friends, she explained. "As a rule when a person decides to wield magic, (who has an affinity for it of course), he or she utilizes a medium – perhaps an inanimate object – in which to house and channel this power. As Atem no longer possesses the Millennium Puzzle, the only medium left was his own body."

Jounouchi immediately leapt to the final conclusion – the one everyone was afraid to come to. "He ain't gonna die again is he?" A round of silent stares of rebuke bore through him. "Hey now," he defended avidly, "nothin' I jus' said wasn't true before! This happened the last time he started playin' funky with the dark magic. No reason to believe why he wouldn't do it again, knowin' how he is." Realizing what that might mean, he looked upon the Egyptians fearfully. "He _is_ gonna make it, right?"

To everyone's relief, Isis and Malik both nodded. "Wielding the amount dark magic Atem did does take an enormous amount of training, not to mention a lot of physical and mental stamina." Isis glanced down again at the sleeping man. "Regardless of the risk he took, he will be all right again."

_We all took our fair share of risks just to get here_, she thought, giving Atem's serene face a sorrowful look, caressing his cheek gently. _You brave foolish man_. She, like they all had, had heard the horrific revelation Bakura had given them before his soul was stolen by the Penalty Game. _I don't know what to do now,_ she thought glumly. _I don't think anyone expected Bakura to kill Yuugi. Why would we? Bakura was more bluster and blunder and when he did take action, his schemes were always so poorly executed._

They had underestimated their enemy, and the cost… the cost was more than their hearts could bear.

"Speak for yourself." Jounouchi didn't take his eyes away from Atem's tranquil face. "Why ain't _he_ countin' sheep then?" He pointed his elbow at Ryou, who was still standing by apprehensively. He visibly winced when the attention was briefly directed to him. "The last time he was in a Game, _both_ spirits left the body," he elaborated to the vague looks of puzzlement on a few faces. "Why'd just Ryou stay behind this time?"

Unhappily, Isis shook her head, while absently brushing the hair out of Atem's face and behind his ears in a motherly fashion. The action was a grim contrast to the ache in her eyes. "I don't know," she confessed after some time helplessly. "It is not easy to explain these sorts of things. With magic, anything can lead anywhere and procure any result. No two spells can be cast the same way just as there is no way to tell who can handle wielding magic and who cannot."

"Perhaps," Ryou began in a tiny voice, causing everyone to look at him again, "it's because he mind crushed me – I mean, the other Bakura?" Faltering under the inquiring gazes, he worried at his lower lip for a second, feeling his courage desert him, even as he persisted to speak. "I felt…" He paused to take a deep breath. "I felt an enormous amount of power course through my body, I… I'd _never_ felt anything like it before." He ventured forward, tentatively, a few steps and gazed wonderingly at the ancient man who had freed him. "Just for a second, I saw something in him… like a light going out, or a candle being snuffed by a sudden wind."

Anzu was the first to fully grasp it – and with it the tears came now, unbidden. "And even with knowing what might happen to him, he did that… He did that for Yuugi – and," she began to weep, "_it was all for_ _nothing_!" She tucked her chin down so the others couldn't see the moisture on her cheeks. "Oh _Yuugi_!" She scarcely noticed Shizuka pressing her own tear-streaked face against her shoulder, softly sharing in their mutual anguish.

The tension had a palatable effect. Isis felt the simmering nakedness of Jounouchi's anger roaring through his trembling muscles and fists. Honda paced restlessly, breathing in and out with care, controlling his visible craving to strike out. Only her brother remained outwardly calm, absentmindedly running his fingertips up and down one of Atem's arms.

All of a sudden a mobile phone rang, breaking the strained atmosphere that had been building. It took a full three rings for them to figure out whose phone it was:

"Jounouchi, it's you," Shizuka murmured, rubbing away at one slightly mottled cheek.

"What? Oh, oh right." He fumbled with the small device before pressing it to his ear. "Hello?" Though from the way he said it, it sounded like 'yello.' "Who's calling? Oh hey, Mrs. Mutou, sorry." He smiled sadly. "Yeah… Yeah, I heard," he said gently. "Listen, I have some ba… What? Say that again? _What_?" His face was lighting up, his eyes became bright, and the energy in the air around him seemed to snap and crackle. "Say it one more time, 'cause god almighty I need to hear it again." He listened, closed his eyes in bliss. "Thank you, _thank you_. That is the _best_ news of my life, you beautiful woman." Then he began to near literally jump up and down. "So when? Really? You're kidding, you're _kidding_. No shit? Is he... How? He _did_? And where….?" He trailed off, waiting impatiently for her to finish what she was saying, ignoring the fact his friends were staring at him intently, and probably wanting to throttle the hell out of him. "Okay, absolutely," he said at last with robust enthusiasm, "we'll be there right away. I know, it's great, aw man, they're not gonna _believe_ this!"

Honda burst first. "What, what, come the hell on man!"

Jounouchi hung up and shocked Honda by snatching him up into a bone crushing bear hug. "Yuugi's alive!" he exulted. "He's alive, he's alive! He's okay!" He released the man and addressed the astounded faces of the others, a huge grin coming close to cracking his face in half. "Yuugi called his mother from a phone he filched off one of the kidnappers! And that ain't even just the best part!" To his sister, he grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Otogi's _with_ Yuugi, Sis!" he told her excitedly. "They were kidnapped together! And he's okay too!" Shizuka burst into tears and threw her arms around her brother. "We gotta get to Domino General. That's where she's callin' from when the cops picked her up. That's where we gonna meet 'em."

Knowing they were all seconds away from piling off the roof, Isis spoke promptly. "We'll take Atem back to the hotel and then Malik will join you later." As she said this, she sent Malik a subtle eyelid threat, warning him not to argue with her on this. He closed his mouth and gave her a single nod.

When the rooftop was empty, only Ryou remained behind. He watched Isis and Malik gently lift and maneuver Atem's cataleptic body between them. Plucking at the sleeve of his jacket, after a moment's hesitation, he moved toward them cautiously.

They saw him and stopped. Their willingness to listen gave him the courage he needed.

He aimed his question at Malik. "Will you tell him – tell them - something for me?" He waited for Malik to nod before going on. "It's all right if… if Yuugi and Otogi want to press charges. In fact, I-I really want them to, this… This is my fault as much as it was Bakura's." He paused, weighing his next sentence and its potential impact. "I knew what was going on and…and I didn't _do_ anything…" His breathing started to stutter. "I was so afraid of him; he was so powerful, so full of hate and rage. If you only could have felt what I did." It was an outward sign how much Ryou was suppressing the urge to weep by how often he kept biting his lips together. "I wasn't helpless, I _wasn't_!" he choked desperately, his words coming with more and more difficulty. "I was a coward!" he clenched his fists together. "I couldn't stand up to him! I couldn't… I couldn't, no, I _wouldn't_…"

Throughout, Malik exchanged looks with Isis, who shifted Atem's weight onto herself, and murmured, "I'll be in the car." Then she made her way to the janitor's stair, where she was pleasantly surprised to see Honda. The paramedic had remained behind, leaning casually against the banister. He smiled and straightened when he saw her staring at him with astonishment.

He shrugged. "I figured you might need an extra hand." With that, he picked up Atem's other arm over his shoulders and assisted Isis with carrying Atem the rest of the way.

Alone, Malik approached Ryou, who had remained where he stood. His head was down, his whole posture ostensibly as if he expected to be executed on the spot. He flinched when he felt Malik's hands fall and rest gently upon his thin, shuddering shoulders. Slowly, very slowly, he drew Ryou to him. He held him as the other man wept without a sound.

* * *

Thanks to Kaiba's masterful handling of communications and the promise of the police to delay reporting their miraculous escape to the press for another twenty-four hours, Yuugi and Otogi (along with their three abductors) were transported to Domino General in near complete secrecy. A huge investigation was going to ensue, and the detectives were just _dying_ to have at them all. The doctors, being the awesome practitioners of their craft and trade, refused to allow them access when Yuugi and Otogi requested they be allowed to spend some time with their friends and families first.

Yuugi wrinkled his nose in distaste at the IV drip the nurse had hooked him up to. He supposed his prognosis _could_ have been worse. Suffering from moderate malnutrition, weight loss, and mild dehydration didn't seem so bad in hindsight, after all. Other than a few cuts and bruises – some in places he was a bit surprised to have learned he'd been hurt – he was going to recover. Physically, Yuugi would be returned to his old self in no time at all.

_My old self_. He stared up at the nondescript ceiling of his hospital bed. _Maybe on the outside_. He was never going to be able to look in the mirror again without seeing the person that had been created out there in the countryside. The man he'd had to become in order to survive; the Yuugi who could put a pistol to his own head, attack a man with a rake, and shoot another with a gun. No, that Yuugi was the one who was lying here today. From the haunted look he'd seen for just a moment in Otogi's eyes as they traveled to the hospital together in the back of the squad car, he knew Otogi was going through the same thing.

_We're never going to get away from what happened out there – not completely_.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, deflating his lungs slowly. Presently, he felt something – someone – enter his hospital room. He lifted his head to see who it was. A soft, tender smile turned the corners of his mouth up. Quickly he sat up, a knot in his stomach dissolving as she rushed around the foot of his bed to envelop him in a tight hug. Smelling the lilac scent of her hair as he pushed his face into her blue sweater, Yuugi felt hot tears splash down his cheeks.

At last she drew back so she could study his face, push back his unruly bangs, and stroke his cheeks with her thumbs. Tears ran down her face too as she gazed upon her only child with love and relief. "I thought I'd lost you too," she whispered brokenly. "Oh god, don't do this to me, Yuugi, don't _ever_ do this to me again."

Yuugi was so choked up he couldn't speak at first, only biting his lips together and nodding, sniffing lightly. "I won't, Mama," his voice was thick, hoarse with emotion. "I…I never wanted to…I never meant…"

"I know," she murmured, kissing him on the forehead, before looking into his face again. "No one does. I don't blame you. Never. I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too, Mama." Suddenly tired, Yuugi rested his forehead on her shoulder again and sighed. "Can you… Just stay with me till they come?"

Mrs. Mutou sat on the edge of the hospital bed, holding her son close, rocking him back and forth ever so slightly. How long they stayed like that, Yuugi didn't know, didn't care to count the minutes. A rapid ruckus of sneakers squeaking on linoleum in the outside corridor and the unmistakable sounds of the number one boisterous duelist made a wry grin spread across Yuugi's face. He released his mother who slid off the edge of the bed with a twinkle of amusement in her eye. She knew what was coming as well as her son did and was keen on getting out of the way.

"YUUGI!" Jounouchi marked his loud entrance into the room with an explosion, leaving Anzu, Honda, and Shizuka trailing haplessly in his wake. Yuugi accepted the wild, rough bear hug Jounouchi tackled him with, his protests about his IV falling on mostly deaf ears. Deftly, Mrs. Mutou caught the delicate contraption before it was knocked over, and remained standing there with her hand on it to prevent anyone from pulling the needle out of her son's arm. Yuugi shot her a grateful look.

Anzu rained a parade of kisses upon his face, causing Yuugi to blush a violent crimson. He hadn't expected for her to do that! How embarrassing! But he let her and bore her incoherency and tear-filled exclamations of relief. Honda, thank god, merely extended his hand out to Yuugi and gave him a very manly grip on his arm, which Yuugi returned with a small grin and a firm nod. Shizuka hugged him tightly, patted him on the back heartily, and parted with a light tease about making her run the shop all by herself because really _what_ was he thinking? Yuugi laughed and apologized with a wicked wink, which made everyone laugh.

"Hey, where's the party?"

Everyone turned and saw Otogi in the doorway rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. Like Yuugi he was wearing the same uncomfortable hospital pajamas, but Yuugi secretly thought he looked better in them than the poor owner of the Black Crown did. Seeing their identical looks of astonishment, he raised a hand shyly in greeting. "Hi."

Shizuka peeled off, ran to him, and right in front of everyone, pressed her mouth upon his as she fiercely embraced the man. He froze at first, completely shocked at her audacity, blinking wide green eyes in disbelief, before he relaxed, and let his eyes drift shut. He kissed her back less ferociously, returning her hug more calmly, but with much more softness and intimacy.

Yuugi simply smiled, his spirits rising at the sight. _How he must have missed her, _he thought_, and I'm willing to bet she was what kept him going through it all._

"All right, all right, that's 'bout enough of that!" Jounouchi put a hand on each of their shoulders, gently making the two part from their embrace. Putting a finger in Otogi's face he narrowed his eyes at the other man. "I'm only gonna letcha get away with doin' that this one time!"

He held the stern stance until Otogi looked sufficiently cowed before pulling the skinny game mogul into his arms and hugging him tightly. "It's good to see ya again you rat bastard," he told him affectionately, giving his pony tail a playful parting yank. Otogi chuckled and cuffed him back in the shoulder. All throughout, Shizuka looked upon her two favorite men with happiness so bright it paled beside the sun in comparison. Honda and Anzu came up to them then and offered Otogi their own hugs and pats, which he received merrily. Yuugi had to admit he didn't think Otogi had ever smiled like that in the entire time they'd been away.

For a split second, when his eyes caught Yuugi's across the room, he winked at him. Yuugi winked back and looked at his mother still standing by his bed side and smiled at her again. She smiled back.

Things would go back to normal eventually. It already seemed they were well on their way.

* * *

The inescapability of having to speak to the detectives could no longer be put off. They waited respectfully while Yuugi and Otogi hobnobbed with their friends and family before poking their heads into the room and firmly, yet politely, asked them all to leave. One detective took Otogi back to his room while his partner remained with Yuugi.

He was questioned for hours, made to go into as much excruciating detail as possible, before the detective finally let up. He gave Yuugi his card, and told him they would need to speak with him again at a later time. Yuugi watched the man go with much relief and allowed his whole body to relax back into the bed. He literally felt the tension bleed from his body. It was a pleasurable sensation.

This wasn't the end of it. Tomorrow he would have to deal with the press and their reporters and their cameras when they were released from the hospital. He let out a quiet, harassed grunt. _I suppose it could be worse,_ he thought. _I could still be handcuffed to that bed back at that damn house with Bakura sitting on my chest, holding my nose and mouth closed, laughing as I struggled to breathe. Putting up with half a dozen questions from ordinary people is nothing. I'm Teflon baby!_

He smirked and chuckled at himself. Definitely gone cuckoo, no question about that. He resolved after this to get back on the dueling circuit as soon as possible. After what he'd been through, a bit of normalcy was called for – and it would be wise to find something to take his mind off what he'd been through. He'd deal with the aftermath as it came._ It's not like I'm alone. I never have been._

"Yuugi?"

Fighting back the urge to groan aloud – seriously, why couldn't he just have a few minutes alone? – Yuugi bit back a rising flood of verbal epithets before deflating completely when he saw the grinning young man at the open threshold to his hospital room.

"Malik!" he exclaimed joyfully, barely restraining himself from leaping out of the bed in his excitement. "You came!"

The Egyptian man embraced his friend genially and briefly pressed their heads together before stepping back once again, gripping Yuugi's hands warmly. "It's good to see you're all right, my friend."

Yuugi beamed. "Mmm! That makes two of us!" He peered around the other man briefly, eagerly. "Is your sister here?"

"Yes, but she's back at the hotel. She plans to come along tomorrow."

"I'll be home by then."

"Then she'll see you there." Malik pulled up a chair and perched on the edge of it. "How've you been?" he spoke confidentially. "Really?"

Yuugi shrugged carelessly. "I'll survive. It's going to be hard – it always is – and I know there are going to be times I might not think I can handle it. But I know I will." His countenance hardened, determined. "I _refuse_ to let Yami Bakura make me his victim for the rest of my life."

"About that. You…" Malik trailed off, averting his gaze, and finished with,"…might not have to worry about him anymore." He paused for effect and took the plunge. "Yami Bakura has been banished to the Shadow Realm."

Mildly taken aback, Yuugi cocked his head to the side curiously. It encouraged Malik to go on, which he did. He was unable to look Yuugi in the eye. "It was never my secret to tell," he confessed, hesitating, looking guilty. "It still isn't. I… I'm betraying a promise but I…"

"Then don't."

Malik's jaw clicked shut. He stared at him.

Yuugi laid his hand over Malik's limp ones. "Don't betray your promise. Please."

"But Yuugi…" he protested weakly.

"No. Malik."

Giving up, the other man sighed and shook his head. "This is going to drive me into an early grave," he muttered. "All these damn secrets."

Yuugi snickered apologetically. "Sorry." He caught Malik's arm as he got up to leave. "Wait." He reached over to the small bed side table and pulled open the top drawer. He pulled out the well-worn photo he had stored there and looked up at Malik, holding his gaze for a moment, before offering the picture to him. Malik took it, looked at it, and then at Yuugi.

His visage quiescent, Yuugi only watched him back silently.

Eventually Malik sighed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a card key, which he placed in Yuugi's hand. "Domino Inn. Room 224.* Come alone."

Yuugi smiled with his whole heart. "Thank you Malik."

His friend picked up his hand and grasped it between his own briefly. "May you live forever, Yuugi-san." Then he left.

* * *

_*Also the number of the last episode of the _Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters_ series _


	36. I Have Always Been Here

"**I Have Always Been Here"**

_Two Days Later_

Very, very carefully Yuugi cracked open the back door and pressed his face against the small opening and peered around, scanning the sidewalk, the street and eyed the corners of the surrounding buildings. The coast seemed to be clear from what he could make out. Satisfied, he closed the door again, and let out his breath – breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding - in a short huff. Reaching into his jeans for what seemed like the umpteenth time he pulled out the card key and simply held it, staring at it thoughtfully.

Was he really going to do this? What if he was wrong? _I shouldn't go, _he thought pessimistically._ I'm just going to wind up looking like a gigantic ass. I mean, what the heck am I supposed to even say? 'Hi there stranger, you look a lot like this dead guy I once shared my body with, so I was wondering if by any chance: Are you him?' _

Yuugi rolled his eyes heavenward and fell against the wall next to the door with a gentle thump. Yeah, he could imagine how _that_ scenario was going to play out! The poor guy would probably trip over his own feet dialing for the funny farm. _I know I would if some whacko tried that and I've encountered just about every whacko there is!_

But it was true. Wasn't it? He couldn't be certain. On the bonus side, Malik hadn't denied it… but he hadn't _confirmed_ it either. Dammit, this was _supposed_ to be easy! This was supposed to be… so why _wasn't_ it? Why was doing this so _hard_?

Letting out an aggravated grunt, Yuugi clenched his teeth together and shoved off the wall, trudging into the kitchen with loud, heavy steps. He slammed a few cupboard doors in search of a coffee filter, some grounds, and his favorite mug. Caffeine solved everything, after all. He shook his head at himself as he prepared the coffee maker and situated the filter. _As if I needed any extra help climbing the walls._ Deciding to be more constructive about this diversion from the inevitable, he decided to make a whole pot. Shizuka was coming in to start her shift in a few minutes and his mother would be home from work in less time than that. They'd appreciate finding a fresh brew waiting for them.

_Yes, Yuugi, _he berated himself sardonically_, what an excellent avoidance strategy: Coffee preparation! _He was accomplishing so much! _Right_.

While he waited for the grounds to filter, Yuugi made one last round of the house and the game shop making absolutely certain no members of the press were lurking about. The last thing he wanted was for Shizuka or his mother to be harassed on the way in. His mother especially, since she would be tired and irritable from a long day at the office and wouldn't be in the mood for a reporter's unwelcoming pestering. You'd have thought the press conference Kaiba had organized the other day would have answered the public's more burning questions about the abduction. _Never underestimate the persistence of a public's need-to-know_, Yuugi remembered somberly. The twenty or so requests for interviews he found on his answering machine yesterday attested to that belief none too evidently.

"I have to do it," he blurted out loud to his reflection in the mirror above the kitchen sink. "I have to know." Immediately he shut his eyes, his features twisting in anguish. "But what if it's _not_ you?" he whispered softly. "It would be like losing you all over again. I-I'm not sure I can handle that." He opened his eyes, wholly beset by his doubts, and grabbed the sides of the sink, ducking his head down, emitting a harsh sigh.

The hardest steps in life to take were the ones that must be taken. Truths were often the most difficult things for anyone to face. He had had to stomach some pretty rough ones about himself these past few weeks – both in his mind and out in the real world. He'd done things he wasn't proud of, supported and suggested actions he once would have condemned in any other situation. He'd felt happiness at watching another man _die _for crying out loud. He'd brought himself to kill – even if it wasn't a _real_ death he'd caused – even though he'd known he'd had to…

And maybe he had. Once. So what if he'd already been long dead, _centuries_ dead? To Yuugi, the pharaoh, Atem, had been as alive as anything with a working brain, heart and lungs of his own. He had talked to him, seen him and _touched_ him in their mind rooms, shared his life with him, all of his hopes and dreams, joked with him, and fought card battles with him. He'd _felt_ what he was feeling, experiencing his emotions as intensely and as completely as his own; sensed his own confusion and desires and fears. His darkness had wanted his name, his _identity_. At sixteen, Yuugi keenly related to those struggles. The fact they shared a mind, a soul, and a body only made it better – and often times, easier.

So it hadn't mattered to him that Atem had only been a spirit. Yuugi had known the second he played that final card he was going to lose someone he had grown to love more than life. He was never going to find that level of intimacy again, which came to be true. He never did.

Four years ago, Yuugi walked out of the pharaoh's tomb, relieved it was all over, relieved that everything in the world was the way it should be. No matter how you spun it, Atem hadn't belonged in this world. It wasn't fair he had been denied his eternal rest for 3000 years. This way was _right_, this way was _fair_.

_God, it was so fucking fair._

So fucking fair, Yuugi somehow managed to keep the fake smile plastered on his face all the way back to Japan. Then he'd gone to his room, shut himself up in his closest, hugged the box the Puzzle had come in because, dammit, he _had_ nothing else of his, and cried until he made himself throw up. He grieved for weeks, successfully keeping his tears a secret until the pain ebbed, healing slowly like an old wound, until only Yuugi knew where the scar still was. Subsequently he'd gone on with his life, pretending he was happy until he was actually happy again. And nobody, not his family nor his friends, ever saw the difference. Maybe they noticed he never spoke of the pharaoh or made reference to him again, maybe they hadn't. But Yuugi would have been the last person to have called attention to it anyway.

Yuugi eased back and glared at his likeness once more with fierce regard. "Grow a pair, Mutou," he growled. "_He'd_ have gone to that damn hotel room _yesterday_."

Leaving a quick note for his mother, Yuugi snagged his keys off the counter, and headed for the Domino Inn with the card key in his back pocket_._

* * *

The Domino Inn was an all right looking, as far as hotels went. The place was definitely on the right side of a three star establishment, though it was vastly lacking in imagination in the architectural department. Isis had told him they were staying there under Kaiba's dime. It disgruntled Yuugi when he learned of this. They were getting short changed, because everyone knew Kaiba Corp. owned an entire hotel line. You'd have thought, being the host, he'd put the guests up personally. Making them stay here was kind of a bum move on the etiquette scale. Of course, perhaps he shouldn't take such an issue with it. Kaiba didn't consider the Ishtar clan friends of his, merely acquaintances that happened to be useful for a short period of time. Useful for what, neither Malik nor Isis would say. Kaiba hadn't uttered a single word when Yuugi asked him about it either.

_I'm about to find out soon. I hope. _

Yuugi stepped out of the car and halted, taking a moment to glance up. Room 224 was _way_ up there. _Well,_ he thought resolutely, _time for all that track I ran in high school to pay off_! A familiar, distant _ding!_ changed his mind simultaneously. "Or I could take the elevator," he muttered, his attempt at creating a bit of levity turning the corners of his mouth up as he jogged his way toward the lobby area. Since he knew where he was going, and had that handy card key, he didn't need to hit the receptionist counter. Instead he headed directly for the elevators.

As he began his climb, Yuugi inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. His heart was beating a mile a minute. He felt shaky from the sudden rush of adrenaline, along with a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through his veins. He wanted to fly to pieces and scream as loud as he could at the same time. Also giggle insanely and beat on the walls too. Yuugi actually laughed aloud at the crazy blend of emotions causing his equilibrium to spin out of sorts. He hadn't felt this jazzed since his last card battle with Yami Bakura back in Memory World!

_Ding!_

Reality flew in his face the second the doors slid opened. Yuugi's emotions crashed against the proverbial wall once more. Taking another shorter breath, he put one foot ahead of the other with fierce determination. _I can do this, do this, do this. Man up, Yuugi, the whole wide world is watching!_

He flicked a cursory glance at the city below, giving the view his token appreciation, before turning his gaze to the numbers on the doors. 219, 220, 221, he mouthed, okay, good, he was on the right floor. He stopped dead when he spied someone coming from the opposite direction. She drew to a halt too, staring at him with amazed sapphire eyes. To Yuugi, she appeared distinctly fashionable in her beige khaki pants and light blue long sleeved blouse. The simple outfit contrasted beautifully against the golden tan of her skin.

"Yuugi!" Isis exclaimed quietly, before a pleasant smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. "I was starting to wonder if you weren't coming."

Yuugi colored a little and shuffled his feet. Darn it, why did women always make him feel so put on the spot? "Yeah, heh, me too." He met her gaze, shyly. "Malik told you, I take it?"

"He did." She gestured over her shoulder. "You can go in. I'm going down to the restaurant to have a bite to eat. Would you like for me to bring you anything?"

"No thanks. I… I have a feeling food is going to be the last thing on my mind."

Isis gazed at him sympathetically. As if she knew. As if she _understood_. Because she did, didn't she? Maybe if Yuugi had been anyone else, this would have angered him, except… he wasn't anyone else. So he smiled at her and gave her a mini salute to let her know he was going to be okay. Isis responded warmly by reaching out, and taking hold of his shoulder in a firm yet encouraging grip. "Good luck, Chosen One," she murmured into his ear before continuing her way down the balcony corridor. Yuugi watched her go briefly, before turning his attention to the door in front of him.

224.

_Here goes nothing_. He plucked the card key from his pants and swiped it, turning the knob after he did. Stepping into the room, he softly closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. He scanned the room, and for a moment, was disappointed. There was no one here.

Then he heard someone turn on the shower.

Smiling with relief, Yuugi drifted around the room to pass the time. On one of the two Queen- sized beds lay a pair of neatly folded black leather pants and a men's black tank top, both clean and ready to be worn. The familiarity of them made Yuugi's stomach start to churn. The jewelry sitting upon the nightstand, the studded neck and wrist buckles, the waist chains, and the screaming obviousness of the gold ankh pendent necklace drove it home further. For a second, dizziness threatened to drive Yuugi into a faint.

Then he saw the God Cards.

"Holy shit," he breathed, and then he _had_ to sit down. He sank on the edge of the empty bed, his back to the rest of the room. He reached up and massaged his temples with his fingers and fought really hard not to have a nervous breakdown. It was true. Had to be. _Had to be_. Who else used all three of those in his deck? Who else would have Malik given them to?

"Fuck," he said it like a prayer.

Abruptly, the pressure and the air in the room changed. The bathroom door had opened, allowing the heated, dampened atmosphere of the bathroom to flow into the dry coolness of the hotel room. Immediately Yuugi turned in his seat, ready to whirl back around again in case the person emerging wasn't wearing a towel.

He was.

And the most shocked expression of incredulity Yuugi had ever seen. Yuugi almost fell off the bed, his mouth one huge O of shock. Suddenly he was stammering and apologizing, turning back around swiftly, trying to control the fact _he was this close to having a heart attack_. He saw himself about to launch to his feet, and going for the door, needing to leave, needing to _not be here_, when one softly spoken word stopped him mid-teeter.

"_Aibou_."

Yuugi clamped his lips together and sucked them in, shutting his eyes tightly. He wasn't going to cry, _he wasn't going to cry_. He felt the other man move through the room and stop on the other side of the bed. He still didn't turn around, still not trusting this. Gradually, slowly, very slowly, he forced his head to turn, and then the rest of him. They met each other's eyes.

Very tentatively, almost uncertainly, Atem began to smile.

Yuugi stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, his mind trying to comprehend, trying to _process_. The man who stood before him was the man from the picture. He was also the pharaoh from the world of his memories. This was the spirit as he had been as himself: the resplendent god-king, with fiery crimson eyes, golden bronze skin and the slender musculature of a well-tended physique. Sans gold and riches and his purple cape, it was he. Alive. _Breathing_. _Standing in front of Yuugi_. Wearing a bone white hotel towel around his waist and the most breathtaking jumble of emotions on his handsome face there ever was. He looked as sick and scared and happy as Yuugi felt.

So frozen in shock, Yuugi didn't react, didn't move, when Atem reached out toward his face. Only when their skin made actual contact did Yuugi gasp and jerk away, standing, stumbling back unsteadily. He held his arms before him in a protective ward.

Atem looked rightfully wounded, hand not yet withdrawn, kind of hanging there in mid air. He slowly lowered it and carefully moved around the bed. Yuugi moved too, only further away, refusing to believe or accept yet. Realizing he was being too forceful, Atem ceased coming any closer. "Yuugi, it _is_ me," he pleaded.

"Prove it." The sentence left his mouth before he could stop it.

"Did I not just do that?"

Yuugi nodded numbly, not really paying attention to the movement. The sound of that awesome voice had confirmed it for him all right, but he still held desperately on to his skepticism. "Explain this," he demanded, gesturing at Atem, clearly meaning his being alive. "_Now_."

Appearing defeated, Atem sighed, letting his hand fall completely back to his side again. "It will take some time," he told him cautiously.

"I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"

"No." The man's next smile was tenderer. "No, you deserve to know everything. I think perhaps the best way to do so…" He came forward suddenly, causing Yuugi to back pedal, startled, into the wall. He seized Yuugi by the sides of his head and pushed their foreheads together. _Is to tell you like this._

Yuugi yelped and jerked away. "Y-You… That was…!"

"Yes."

"How? How is that possible?"

"I do not know." Atem gently released Yuugi and moved away a more comfortable distance. "I am so happy you are alive." Atem spoke on earnestly as Yuugi just stood there dumbly, meting out this new information. "When Yami Bakura said he had killed you, I… I…" His features twisted in pain and his whole posture seemed to sag in on itself in grief, in guilt. "I thought it all had been for nothing. I thought I had failed you."

Yuugi watched him retreat and sit on the edge of the bed, head cradled in his arms, the curve of his back arched in distress. He ventured closer and this time _he_ was the one reaching out. He cupped Atem's chin and tilted his face up, meeting his eyes, violet to the deepest blood red. He could feel the heat of man's breath against his palm, the scent of the shampoo in his still-damp hair, and the heat of the shower that still emanated from his naked body.

"Tell me you're really here," he begged quietly, unable to keep away the sting of his tears, the trembling, and preventing the lump inside his throat from dissolving. "Please, my other self, _please_."

Atem reached up and grasped Yuugi's hand and arm tightly. "I am here, _mou hitori no ore_," he replied passionately. "I am real. But, please, I beg of you, pray tell me… Are _you_ real? Is this your hand against my face?" Tears were running down the ancient man's cheeks. "I should think I would die again if it were not true."

Yuugi dove then, right into Atem's embrace, pulling the man to him, and hugging him fiercely, wallowing in his warmth, diving into his scent. _No longer dead, no longer in a dream, but here, here, here, and nobody's ever taking you away from me again, never, not ever_.

_No aibou,_ Atem's thought-voice spoke up affectionately, directly into Yuugi's mind. _Never dead and never a dream; I have _always_ been here._


	37. Immemorial

_**Warning: **This chapter contains a sexual encounter between two grown men. I have done my best to keep it tasteful and within the guidelines of this website's M-rating. Usually I do not forewarn my readers of impending adult material but considering this story began as a T-rated fic, I want to make sure anyone who should not or does not want to read such material knows of the rating and content change in advance. _

* * *

"**Immemorial"**

When Atem stepped out of the shower (his very short shower), the last thing he expected to see was Yuugi sitting on one of the hotel beds. Granted, he knew he had been alive - something Malik had been very quick to inform him of the second he returned to the world of the awake and aware. But seeing him here… so soon… and Yuugi having come to him _first_… sent a very real jolt through the former pharaoh. His mind raced. Had Malik or Isis told him? No. He dismissed this notion immediately. The expression on his partner's face, and the thoughts running through his head, were too genuine – and he had never known his partner to put on a false face outside of a duel. Yuugi had only _suspected_ it was Atem, thanks to the lovingly crinkled snapshot Malik had shown him. Not until they had embraced. Only then did the younger man become convinced of Atem's existence… as surely as he had become of Yuugi's.

Oh it was so _wonderful_ to see him again! Atem drew back just enough and held the other at arm's length to take in the details of his features. Gone was the apple-cheeked youth with the nervous stutter, the shifting nervous gaze, and the painfully shy countenance. In his place was an incredibly handsome adult man with lean, adult lines, a steady stare, and an air of confidence. He was almost as tall as Jounouchi and his build was slender and trim. When he realized he wasn't just looking anymore but downright _ogling_ Yuugi, Atem blushed and let him go. In response, Yuugi flushed a little across his nose and cheeks. He gave him a small smile. _It's okay, I don't mind, I'm looking at you too._

Somehow that only made Atem blush even redder. "You have… grown up," he stated admiringly. "You are a man now."

Yuugi bit down on the corner of his lower lip, and glanced away, seeming embarrassed. "Well, yeah, uh, time will do that. You…" He looked back at Atem quickly, trying very subtly to give him the once-over, and failing. "You look younger than I remember," he finished weakly. "From when I saw you last."

Pleased, Atem grinned at this. "How old did you think I was?" he teased.

Yuugi gave an indifferent shrug. "I don't know. To me, you've always been the older and wiser one."

"Ah! So how old do you think I look now?" _I'd beg to differ on the wiser part, aibou._

"Closer to my age… which, I guess you were at the time you, well, died." _Nobody likes a smartass, other me._ Yuugi mugged unrepentantly at the astonishment Atem threw him. "Anyway, I guess that's irrelevant. Okay, for real." He poked the god-king in the chest. "Start from the beginning. Everything, and leave nothing out."

Atem smirked. "Once upon a time…" he began jokingly.

Rolling his eyes, Yuugi threw him a mildly exasperated look. _Now_ _you're doing that on purpose._

_Yes. I am._

Yuugi plucked up a pillow and dutifully whacked him in the head with it once, before he settled down and listened raptly as Atem indeed started from the beginning. As he wove his narrative, Atem was reminded of another time he had spoken from his heart in another hotel half a world away. Except this time it was to _Yuugi_ to whom he was speaking to from his heart. He was the one person who he _should_ have been talking to from the moment he had retrieved his memories from the Puzzle and realized who the young man haunting the corridors of his mind was. A young man in the grand insane scheme of things whom he owed more than he felt could be repaid not only in one lifetime – but two.

* * *

"I am so sorry," he ended, leaning his elbows on his knees, staring down at the carpet between his bare feet. He could scarcely look Yuugi in the eye. "I should have contacted you sooner. If I had known Bakura was still around, I could have stopped him before he made a move on you."

His partner sat up from where he'd been lounging on the mattress. "How do you figure that? You couldn't have known." Yuugi pointed out, frowning. "Everyone thought Bakura was dead and gone. You can't blame yourself for things out of your control or ability to anticipate."

Atem nodded unwillingly. He was right. "I know that, just, I can't help it," he confessed. "All this time gone by, I just think of all the things I could have done, and I feel so guilty."

"I'm _not_ mad at you, so don't. Please." Yuugi's much softer hand covered his rougher, more calloused one, and stroked his fingers in a reassuring caress. "I'm okay now, thanks to you."

"Yuugi, you got yourself out of there." Atem's mouth was a bitter line. "I… I was not very much help to you."

His partner stared at him disbelievingly. "How can you say that? You got rid of Bakura and brought back Ryou. How is that not helping me?" When Atem made no reply, he exhaled loudly, faintly exasperated. "All right." He shifted around on the bed, putting his hands on the other man's shoulders. "Look at me. Please?" Atem did, glumly. "_You_ were the one who lured Bakura out which gave Otogi and me the chance we needed to get away. _You_ were the one who dueled him into submission and banished him into the Shadow Realm. Without you, Bakura would have tortured us until he got bored of it, and then god only knows what else he would have done to us afterward." He cupped Atem's face in both hands. "Thank you," he said sincerely, captivating Atem with the vibrancy of his eyes. He kissed him on his forehead. In bliss, Atem closed his eyes and without thinking leaned into the pressure of Yuugi's lips.

"So you are not angry?"

Hearing the wary tone, Yuugi withdrew and stared at Atem in disbelief. "_Angry_? I just told you, I'm not…" Then he understood from the doubt Atem sent him. "Oh. No. I understand that part completely. You wanted to live your own life and you didn't want to interrupt mine."

Unconvinced, Atem reached over to the nightstand, and picked up the photo from underneath his wallet. "Are you certain?" he whispered and handed the photo to Yuugi. "Even when you suspected this was me?"

Yuugi blushed at the sight of the photo and stole from Atem's hand gently, hiding it away at once back in his own pocket. "Yes," he admitted quietly, smiling a little. "You were given the chance to live your life again, a chance so few, if any, of us get. If it couldn't include me, so be it. Considering you'd been forced to share headspace with me for a few years, it's natural to assume you wanted the chance to discover what it felt like to be yourself again. As long as you were happy, I figured, I was happy. But!" He grinned then, bright and wide, and true, kicking one of his legs back and forth jauntily. "This is good too! Better actually."

Atem felt as though his insides had been turned to lead and yet he felt lighter than the air they were breathing. "You do not know how happy I am to hear you say this," he said, fighting back a bevy of tears. "I would have rather forsaken that choice, yet I did not want to think of only myself. I had to think of you, what it would do to your life. Though I do think," he exhaled a short laugh through his nose, "you _should_ be a little more indignant about it."

Laughing aloud, Yuugi curled his fingers around Atem's hand, the same hand he had touched earlier, and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Well," he conceded sing-song, "okay, _maybe_ I'm a _little_ annoyed. I mean, I did want to see you again." _So much I wanted to see you, for so many years, for so many times I'd warred with regret and relief and grief though I got over it eventually and moved on. _His eyes did the up and down thing again. "Of course," he added mischievously, "_this_ is more than what I expected."

Perceiving the innuendo, Atem felt his face burn, and knew there was _no way_ he could play that one off jokingly. Suddenly he felt _truly_ naked, although he still wore the towel. "Aibou…" he muttered under his breath.

Yuugi snickered heartily. His cheeks were growing a bit pink too. "Sorry, sorry! I couldn't resist."

The ex-king of Egypt smiled and said what was in his heart. "You have become everything I hoped you would be. I am so proud of you."

Yuugi shook his head in vigorous denial. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of the things I did without you to guide me."

"I doubt this is true. Can you still not see what I see even now?"

Yuugi picked up Atem's hand and twined their fingers together. "I've been trying to, just… it isn't always easy, you know? I still fall into that place, sometimes, where I'm scared and want to run away." _Like I feel like I'm about to do right now… _Yuugi's voice trembled, his next words coming out in a rush. "And, and I know it isn't right, or fair, or ethical, and n-now with you sitting here in front of me, I... I know I shouldn't…" He clenched his eyes shut tightly, full of anguish and despair. "Oh man," he cried out suddenly, "this is wrong!" Startling Atem, he yanked his hand free, stood up, crossed the room quickly, and grabbed the top of a desk chair.

Beyond dumbfounded by his partner's odd behavior, Atem watched him with wide eyes, his heart pounding a staccato beat against his chest. Clammy, itchy sweat formed in the creases of the hand Yuugi had gripped so tightly before releasing it. He rubbed his palms together for a second in silent contemplation, before he rose to go stand behind Yuugi, who remained where he was, rigid, with shoulders hunched, shaking.

"Yuugi?" he ventured gently. "What is it, what is wrong?"

He was completely surprised when Yuugi turned around, pulled him close, and swiftly covered his mouth with his own. Atem gasped, encouraging Yuugi to give him a fully open-mouthed kiss. By the time he was able to bring his wits together to form a reaction, Yuugi pulled away abruptly, and stared at him challengingly, hopelessly, like a dying animal forced into a corner. When Atem still had not spoken, or made any other motion, his expression filled with grief and he looked away, ashamed at what he had done.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled desperately. "I shouldn't have done that; that was stupid, I'm sorry. I didn't even think to ask you if you even… I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He moved to leave.

Atem seized his arm. "Aibou."

Yuugi glanced up miserably before Atem pulled the young man against him, held him close with one arm around his shoulders and one arm at his waist. Then he proceeded to fully communicate through his lips and his tongue his feelings, letting them flow along through the link between their minds. Yuugi faltered on the uptake before slowly, eagerly, he responded in kind. He pressed their bodies together, offering earnest caresses of his own. Gradually he began a familiar rolling rhythm with his hips. Atem smiled into the kiss – ah, so his Yuugi was no unlearned virgin. Consequently, neither was he.

"You have been with a man before, Yuugi?" he spoke between kisses, the frantic pace of them slowing, his voice husky in his own ears.

"No." Yuugi murmured, nuzzling his neck, alternately kissing and gently nipping the skin between his teeth, tasting him. "Just girls, actually," he added as an afterthought. "Oh!" He grunted when Atem gave him a firm, yet gentle shove forward, pinning his lower back against the desk. He relaxed his motions when he felt Atem respond in kind, letting his breath out harshly through his nose. "Could you… just… harder… Yeah." He closed his eyes, enjoying Atem's ministrations. "Mmm… Didn't know."

Atem picked up the rest from his mind – his passion addled mind, he noted with smug satisfaction. "I enjoy both. The person," he began to travel a path down Yuugi's elegant throat, "attracts me more than the body, though I have found both," he squeezed gently, meaningfully relishing Yuugi's soft exclamation, "equally pleasurable."

Yuugi chuckled, and it was not an innocent sound. "How long?"

"Since I met you." Atem unbuttoned Yuugi's shirt, delighting in the hitch in the other's breathing as he did so. "But I did not want you like this then. I have loved you for far longer. I wanted to be with no one else."

The shirt was gone, left in a heap upon the floor, forgotten. The towel shortly followed. Atem rested his hands on Yuugi's pants, running his fingers along the belt in question. "How?" he spoke close to Yuugi's ear, taking the lobe in his teeth, tugging gently.

Yuugi released the fastener and undid the zipper. "Nothing crazy," he told him, kissing between his words as he relieved himself of the final impediment separating them. "I'm not a girl," he elaborated breathlessly.

Atem chuckled. "I am aware of that, and neither am I. Really, Yuugi?" He bit back laughter. "Ground rules?"

"Hey, we _are_ guys," Yuugi pointed out huffily, flushing a bit. "I mean, if _you_ do, I just want you to know, I… I wouldn't want to. I mean I wouldn't like it."

Atem turned them around, marveling at the contrast of their skin tones, and began guiding Yuugi slowly toward the bed. Though the sun was setting, he could still see his other's face in the dim light filtering from the window. "I will not make you do anything you do not want to do. You know me, aibou."

"Yes," Yuugi murmured, smiling affectionately. "I do."

For a moment, Atem experienced a small twinge of uncertainty. Were they rushing this? They had only just reunited and now they were… except it didn't _feel_ like that. He understood, in his mind, that the Ceremonial Duel four years ago still felt very much like yesterday. For Yuugi, though, so much more time had passed, and so was more privy to its affects. He did not wholly comprehend how he could simply dive so quickly into this moment with such utter abandon.

Yuugi sensed his thoughts, his confusion, and answered.

_The time that passed was immemorial to me. I have lived every day since the day you left this world cherishing every moment you and I shared, every battle we fought. When I saw your picture, when I saw _you_, I found myself begin to hope. I began to think about you as someone no longer confined to my past but a possible part of my future; a future where I might have you back in my life again. And in knowing this, I made my decision about what I wanted to be to you, what I wanted you to be to me. My only fear was whether you felt the same way._

_I do, Yuugi, I do, always, _Atem answered fervently_. You must know that. _

_Then there is no more we need to say._

Yuugi touched Atem's cheeks with his fingers, his lips, bringing them to his own, before lying down upon the bed, crawling backward, and spreading his legs in such a wanton fashion, it set the former monarch to staring. _Re above, aibou, _he marveled_, if you continue to act like this, I may not be able to restrain myself. _A sultry grin spread across Yuugi's lips.

Atem let his own smirk say as much as he covered Yuugi's body with his own. Seizing his mouth with his own lips, he hungrily plundered his lover's warmth and his wetness while eliciting the ardent moans and whimpers he sought. Considering where his hands were and what he was doing with them, he wasn't surprised. Yuugi's hips rose rhythmically with each languid stroke.

Soon they were sliding under the sheets, entangled, letting hands wander freely over their beloved canvases, seeking what had been taken, finding what had been secretly sought, each touch and kiss a precursor to a cry of intense need. Laced throughout, softly unspoken in thought, in the depths of each other's eyes, was a love transcendent beyond death. Passion born from longing, a yearning so palpable, they wept. Their tears mingled with the perspiration on their bodies as they moved together, entwined.

"Could you… please…?" Yuugi panted, flushed.

Atem winked at him, and proceeded to draw cries of delight from his other. He considered the few small patches of hair he lost from his scalp for his efforts a compliment.

For a moment, after they were both finished, Atem gazed upon his other's moon pale face, tracing and memorizing every curve and dip, the damp bangs clinging to his beaded skin, and the brightness of his eyes. Yuugi smiled up at him, his lips slightly parted as he sought to catch his own breath.

"Wow," he managed, amazed and impressed. "Where'd you learn how to _do_ that?" Atem answered by only giving him his most overconfident smirk. Yuugi rolled his eyes heavenward at the other's antics. "Serves me right for even asking you." He leaned up and brushed his lips over Atem's briefly, enticing him into another passionate lip lock. Then he smiled and wrapped his arms around his other half, cradling him against his warmth until sleep came.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _I would like to thank Spirithorse for sharing her thoughts and suggestions with me on an early draft of this chapter. :)_


	38. A Greek Built Bridge Too Far

"**A Greek Bridge Built Too Far"**

"Did you ever think we'd get here?" Yuugi asked Atem a couple of hours later. Up till now, they were talking about nothing. Isis hadn't returned from her trip to the hotel's cafeteria, leading both of them to suspect she wasn't planning on coming back at _all_. Yuugi wondered what she would have thought about the way it had progressed in these few short hours. Certainly _he_ had had no inkling of _what_ awaited him the moment he'd set out to find someone whose identity he hadn't been sure of until he'd seen him with his own eyes!

While these thoughts ran through his mind, Atem shifted onto his side, kind of peering off thoughtfully into the distance, giving Yuugi's query some consideration.

"Perhaps," he answered at last, "if you clarified your meaning of 'here' I may be able to respond more readily?" Yuugi pinched him. He jerked back. "Ow! All _right_, I deserved that. If you are referring to this," he pointed to himself and then to Yuugi, "I had been hopeful, yes."

"You realized how you really felt."

"Oh, I _knew_ how I felt. I believe I mentioned that before, though perhaps _you_ forgot, taking into consideration how… _preoccupied_ you were. Sometimes you can be so impertinent, Yuugi!" Atem reached up and impishly flicked a small lock of Yuugi's hair away from his cheek who responded by making a face. "At the time, I knew it could not be, and I kept my real feelings hidden. You would not have been able to accept them. Not then."

In a bit of a pout, Yuugi bit his bottom lip for a second, digesting this. "I don't agree with that," he began, disappointed. "It wouldn't have mattered to me." He smiled nostalgically. "For me, coming from you, it would have meant so much."

Sighing softly, Atem stared up at the ceiling. "I know, I… I just did not want to make the parting any more difficult than it already was."

Hearing the melancholy in Atem's voice, Yuugi moved a hand over and rested it lightly upon the other's hip. "Maybe not," he began kindly, absently rubbing small, comforting circles over Atem's stomach. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway, if you think about it; time enough to find out these things when we're _both_ dead, huh?"

Atem hummed in response and closed his eyes, plainly enjoying Yuugi's attentions. "I suppose that is one way to look at it, yes."

Yuugi smirked triumphantly. "You give in to me _entirely_ too easily, mou hitori no boku. What?" Atem's face had turned sour. "What is it?"

"We are now two separate people, as we have always been." Atem captured the hand caressing his skin, carding their fingers together, folding them. "I have never been your other self."

Yuugi shrugged, perfectly nonchalant. "Probably not, but you _are_ my other half."

The god of men grinned. "As you are mine, aibou."

In contentment, Yuugi closed his eyes, and allowed their foreheads to gently connect. "I can't believe how much I missed hearing you say that." He sighed contentedly. "No one's ever called me that but you."

"No one ever will." It was a promise.

"Good."

After a time, Atem moved away from Yuugi and sat up, linking his arms loosely around his upright knees. Yuugi caught a glimpse of the expression on his face and pulled himself up as well, viewing the other man with concern. "Atem?"

Atem seemed unable to speak. He simply shrugged.

"Tell me." Yuugi urged, touching his back, massaging it gently. A few more heartbeats elapsed. "Please tell me?" he added in an even quieter voice.

The ex-pharaoh exhaled a hurricane of a sigh. "It is Sarah," he confessed, catching Yuugi rather off guard. "I am afraid I may have irreparably damaged my relationship with her."

"Why do you think that?" Yuugi asked, refusing to pick at Atem's thoughts for the answer, because there were certain things he felt needed to spoken aloud.

It was a long few minutes before Atem seemed able to bring his gaze to Yuugi's, and what he saw in his crimson eyes was unmitigated remorse – and dread. "Before I came to Japan, I had started a relationship with her… an intimate one," he finished uneasily.

"Oh," was all Yuugi could think of to say.

Atem looked so upset, Yuugi was more worried about _him_ than he was about the fact he'd just learned Atem was stepping out on the woman who'd brought him back to life. "However," he continued haltingly, glancing at Yuugi constantly, as if waiting for him to lash out. "I understand your modern day sensibilities. I know neither you nor Sarah will be all right with me being with the both of you." His head dropped between his hands and cradled upon his kneecaps. "I was so happy to see you," he mourned wretchedly. "I was so happy you felt the same for me, I… I did not think about the consequences! I am so sorry. This is not fair."

Yuugi half-smiled, and shook his head somewhat. "It isn't," he agreed calmly, very careful not to put any negative inflection in his voice. "You need to speak with Sarah. You need to do that anyway. Tell her what happened. I can't say she won't be hurt but I believe if you're both truly friends, then your friendship will definitely heal in time." He noticed Atem staring at him wide-eyed and unblinking. "What?"

"You are… incredible. How can you possibly not be upset?"

Yuugi laughed and gave his other a healthy pat on the back. "Believe me I am, in my way. But!" He cupped his pharaoh's cheek, stroking his thumb along his elegant jaw line. "I'm going to let you decide what you want to do," he said softly. "What you and I have can't be overtaken by anything: I'm here for you no matter what."

Anything else he might have said was lost when Atem reached for him and engrossed them both in a deep, rough, and frankly, really smoking hot kiss. Coming up for air, Yuugi gulped, and using all of his will power, threw the sheets off and slid out of the bed. He began to hunt around for his clothes, glancing at the digital clock, his mind going to other things. If he didn't arrive home soon, his mother was probably going to think he'd been abducted again, and he wasn't in the mood to explain _this_ development just yet. Besides what _could_ he do if Atem decided to stay with Sarah? He didn't imagine her being okay with it, however; he also didn't know the woman and so shouldn't assume anything about her. He paused for a moment, forgetting the current turmoil, to admire Atem following his roll off the other side of the bed and settling into a long, leisurely stretch. The Egyptian ruler from millennia past owned the body of a god. In the eyes of the Chosen One, he was a slender, tanner version of Adonis. He definitely had the physique for it!

Yuugi felt a flush of heat crawl under his skin and prickle the hairs up on the back of his neck. Adonis, Great Re, now _that_ was going a Greek built bridge too far! _Was_ it Greek? He was so sure it was Greek…

Yuugi was so entranced by his innocuous musings he completely failed to notice Atem sidle up behind him as he rummaged around on the floor for his pants. Spying him from the corner of his eye, Yuugi straightened up immediately. Atem slanted his head to the side, appraising Yuugi's mildly startled reaction with a quietly amused air. His fingertips traced the skin of the younger man's pale face, skipping over his soft lips, to his chin, trailing lightly down his neck. Yuugi felt his mouth turn up softly in a smile. _I feel like I could sit on top of the world when he looks at me like that._

_As I feel I could rule over it with you watching me, aibou._

Yuugi blushed violently. He really needed to learn to keep his more personal thoughts closer to his chest. _We are going to kill our friends if we talk like this around them, _he warned_. It may even convince Jounouchi to reverse his opinion of Anzu's vampire romance novels to that of thinking them good literature._

Atem chuckled as he finished pulling on his pants and carefully closing the fasteners. "I fear there is no force in the universe capable of changing that, Yuugi," he replied aloud.

Yuugi paused in the middle of buttoning up his shirt, thrown for six. "You read vampire romance novels," he stated.

"I have not. But Isis does."

Yuugi stared at his partner, mouth hanging slightly open. Now _that_ was news to him.

A bit stifled, Atem held up one hand and shook his head, indicating the topic was not one up for further discussion. He finished dressing and moved to start putting on his remarkable array of accessories. After studying him for several more seconds, Yuugi stood before him and picked up one of the studded wrist cuffs. "Let me."

Atem offered no protests. They traded shy smiles the whole while Yuugi put on his necklace, his earrings, and his throat buckle. The waist chains went on last. Finally Yuugi stood back and checked out the other from head to toe. "Man," he concluded without bothering to hide his envy. "I _am_ so jealous."

Atem smirked (sexily) and laid one slim hand on his hip. "You need not be, Yuugi."

"I know _that_, it's just," Yuugi lifted and then uselessly flapped his arms at his sides, gesturing to his other, "_wow_."

"It pleases me that I can leave you yearning to find adjectives to describe my resplendence."

"Maybe if they'd been invented, I could," he replied dryly, unable to help the rising peal of laughter that emerged. "We," he added pointedly, "need to move along."

Atem reluctantly acknowledged this with a dip of his head. "Yes. We both have things we need to do." Quietly, he called out after Yuugi, watching the other man open the door. "Come see me again before I return to Egypt?"

Crestfallen at this pronouncement, Yuugi didn't let it show on his expression or taint the smile he gave Atem. "Of course! You'll have to come out with the gang before then anyway. You know they're not going to let you go without a proper good bye."

Atem smiled weakly. "Kaiba has made it abundantly clear I was not to take off without dueling him one last time, as I had promised. Do not worry I doubt that I am going _anywhere_."

They shared equally harassed expressions before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

* * *

Later that evening, Yuugi tried to make sense of what had happened. Honestly, he didn't know _what_ he wanted to feel; his emotions were in such a tangled snarl already. There was elation at his unrequited feelings being returned, the thrill of broaching the last barrier separating him from his other, and the happiness at everything having been made possible at all. There was also the jealousy too – and a little bit of anger as well. But the anger was more objectified, intellectual, hanging off somewhere separate from him than anything he was really feeling. The envy was closer, more of a little twisting feeling in his chest.

He couldn't bring himself to hate Sarah or wish Atem to abandon her for himself. If Atem was in love with her, and she him, and they had something special going on, then the both of them had a right to that happiness. Besides he felt somewhat responsible for this mess, though logic told him this sat squarely on Atem because he didn't tell Yuugi about Sarah before their tumble. Yuugi would not have instigated a physical relationship if he'd known about her.

_I love Atem and what happened with him today,_ _but_, he amended with a small, contented smile, _I know now that I don't_ need _physical commitment from him._ _We're beyond that, really. I _know_ I come first in his heart. He can't help it the same way I can't help it. If I were still with Aki right now, I think _I_ might have even done it. _He nodded firmly, his expression hardened in determination. _In fact,_ _if he chooses her and she rejects him, I'll_ personally _go find her myself and_ make _her take him back! _

He might just do that anyway, although not for the reasons one might assume. It would be awkward – gods it would be awkward - because he had never before met a woman whom had been intimate with someone _he'd_ been intimate with. Weird! But he'd get by it. After all, he'd just been through the worst slice of hell in his entire life. So what was this but a molehill in a world of mountains? This Dr. Sarah Chanson had become a part of the Millennium Phase of their lives, and unwittingly, a very deep, personal part of Yuugi's existence. Atem had allowed Sarah to be important to him on a level he had not allowed Anzu or any other woman they had both known. He needed to know that if he had to walk away, he was leaving Atem with someone worthy of him.

_But he was mine first_, Yuugi thought fiercely, narrowing his eyes at the dishes he was washing. _I know I have no right to claim propriety over him, _he continued_,_ as if in apology to himself._ It nearly destroyed me when I had to let him go four years ago. I am not capable of doing that a second time. If he wants to share his life with Sarah, I want him to if she makes him happy. But if he should need anything, no matter what it is, I hope he comes to me. _

Yuugi meant what he had said to him earlier. It scared him to the depths in which his loyalty went to the former pharaoh of ancient Kemet. He'd always loved him dearly, both through the good times and the bad times, indiscriminately, unconditionally. Once upon a time, such a realization might have disturbed him. Now he accepted this facet of himself as he had come to accept the fact he'd watched Otogi gun a man down and felt no regret about it whatsoever.

After drying them, Yuugi placed the last dish back in the cabinet and started up the stairs to bed.

A soft knock on the door gave him pause. Automatically, Yuugi's mind double checked where everyone in the house was. His mother went to bed an hour ago, Anzu had gone to sleep three hours before because she had to get up early to get on a flight back to New York, and Jounouchi had moved back to his place yesterday. He snatched a glance at the clock hanging on the wall nearby. Who would decide to bother him so late? The detectives? A chill seeped into his stomach. Oh hell, he hoped not. There was going to be a trial soon, sure, charging his and Otogi's abductors with their kidnapping, amongst other things, but they wouldn't come this late to ask questions. His lawyer, maybe? No, he dismissed the notion at once. She'd call first, not interrupt her client in the middle of the night.

When he opened the door, his mouth fell open a little.

Atem smiled weakly. "Hi."

Still staring unblinkingly, Yuugi robotically stepped aside and let him in. Wearing a windbreaker across his shoulders like a cape, with his hands in his pockets, Atem affected a little shrug of his shoulder when Yuugi raised an eyebrow in silent askance after closing the door behind him.

"I could not sleep," he confessed.

With a gesture of his head, Yuugi indicated they needed to head up to his room, and they stole up the stairs quietly. They did not speak until the bedroom door was closed.

"Did you talk to Sarah?" Immediately Yuugi flinched inside – ouch, that is _not_ what he had meant to say first. He should have started with something else; in fact he'd _had_ another reply all ready to go too. Instead this was what popped out. He was a glutton for punishment. Rude, he thought, very rude. "Sorry," he muttered, looking away.

"No. Do not apologize to me when there is nothing you need to apologize for." Atem took a deep breath and released it, lowering his pensive gaze to his feet, shuffling his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. "Yuugi," he began softly, "please do not hate me."

"You want to stay with her."

Atem's mouth turned down, unhappy, and there were tears on his eyelashes. Disarmed from within and without, Yuugi felt a knot form in his throat threaten to dissolve at any moment. _Be strong, man, be strong._ Yuugi took a measured, slightly shuddery breath, and nodded. He understood, he wanted to say, yet preparing to hear it said and then _actually_ hearing it said were two different things.

"Okay," Yuugi whispered, at length. "It's okay."

"No it is not!" If Atem continued to look and sound like that, Yuugi knew it wouldn't be for much longer. "She reacted just the way you did. She was not angry. She did not cry. She… she said to remember the last thing she told me before she returned to America. She said I was her friend above anything else. She would leave it up to me!" Atem paced back and forth, not knowing what to do with his hands, holding them up before him, clenching and unclenching them in fists of frustration. Suddenly he rounded on Yuugi, his eyes bright with pain and regret. "By Set, I don't know to do!" He came close to shouting, his deep tenor a shadow of bitterness and sorrow. "Why won't either of you fight for me?"

Yuugi bit his bottom lip. He went up to the man and took the fists his other had made and held them until they unclenched and loosened. His violet gaze met Atem's crimson one, gray-bright in the moonlit darkness pouring from the skylight. Atem suddenly and swiftly seized Yuugi tightly by the shoulders, digging in his digits. Yuugi winced and tried to pry free, and failing that, he simply chose to remain in his other's grip, staring back at him silently. It distressed him to see Atem so torn, so _lost_. He felt the other's turmoil keenly in his own head and heart, and knew he could not – would not – make it worse by throwing his own jigsaw emotions into the fray. So he remained quiescent and still.

After gazing upon Yuugi's pale face for a few more moments, Atem mumbled something in another tongue before he swept down and caught Yuugi's mouth in his own. This kind of raw passion was new to Yuugi and he found himself struggling to keep his head above the surface to avoid drowning in it. At last, starved for breath, he grabbed the sides of Atem's head and forced their hungry, needy lips apart. It was the battle worn look on Atem's face, the ghost edge of a heartbreak waiting to shatter his soul apart that showed Yuugi the dearth of his struggle. He truly was unable to choose. He loved both of them and his pride would not allow him to forsake either of them in his heart. If this were ancient times, Atem's choice would have been made for him: Sarah would have been his official, public choice, while Yuugi would have been the only man not dismissed from the king's chambers for the night. Somehow, when he thought about it in that light, things had worked _so_ much more simply in less civilized times.

"Go," he told his other half, struggling to preserve his fading composure. "Don't throw away what you have with her because we stole a few hours together. Losing you to Sarah isn't worse than losing you forever." When the ex-king didn't move or speak or change the expression on his face, Yuugi fought back the intense urge to scream, sob and tear out hunks of his hair. "Please, go to her, I beg you!" His voice wasn't breaking, it wasn't. "You're in so much pain right now I can't take it!"

Dumbfounded, Atem's lips parted, and his mouth fell part way open. "You… can feel that?"

"I feel _everything_!" Yuugi blurted out desperately, without thinking – or caring. "And I know you love her differently than you love me but it's _true_, it's _real_, _and I will not destroy that_!" He was panting by the time he reached the end of his breathlessly delivered sentence.

Bowled over, Atem studied him curiously. It seemed as if forever passed before he spoke again. "No."

The confidence in his response confused Yuugi. "What?" he said faintly. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

Atem approached Yuugi and embraced him again, soothingly, his chin tucking over his shoulder neatly. "No," he said again, more warmly.

"But…"

Atem drew back just enough so they were face to face, nearly nose to nose. "You have always sacrificed your desires for mine," he murmured. "It is what I love about you, but it is also what grieves me about you." He closed his eyes, as if debating. After a brief hesitation, he opened them again. "Yuugi," he insisted, "I _want_ you in my life."

Yuugi stared at him. There was never any question of that as far as he was concerned. "I want you in mine."

Somehow this caused the tension to ease throughout the other man's body. Gradually, Atem's hands fell away. Yuugi felt a smile yank up the corners of his mouth. It hurt. Resignedly, Atem watched him back, and he could see his other forcing his own smile. He sighed in mutual defeat. They weren't fooling one another at all were they? Their thoughts and emotions were lying before each other, exposed to their eyes, hearts, and minds, naked in the wan light of the moon.

Letting his knees buckle, as he no longer felt able to stand with the rush of emotions overwhelming him, Yuugi slowly sank down to the carpet. Atem went with him, wrapped his hands around Yuugi's head and cradled the younger man's head against his chest. Yuugi welcomed the embrace, leaning in to it. He let Atem turn his chin up, and exhaled harshly through his nose, welcoming the familiar and all too brief caress of his other's lips against his own. He remained where he sat, watching Atem as he rose gracefully and moved for the bedroom door. Just for a moment, before he left, he glanced back at Yuugi. He smirked.

After Atem was gone, Yuugi turned his clear gaze toward the stars, and smiled at them.


	39. The Beginning of the End

"**The Beginning of the End"**

The decision to head out to Japan was made for Sarah Chanson when Atem called her. At first she was overjoyed. Atem was alive! Yuugi was alive! They'd made it out alive! Together! Instead it was the phone call to end all phone calls: the one she dreaded with the sort of expectancy of one waiting for the world to end… or to begin once again.

They were together. Really together: As in, the falling into bed type of together. She supposed it shouldn't have surprised her the way it did. After all, it was plain from the way Atem had spoken of Yuugi back at the Four Seasons, what it was he felt for the young man. He could have etched it in hieroglyphs across the surface of her skin and she would have understood it. So why was she sitting here pensively in a lonely studio apartment staring at the coffee table as if by her gaze alone she could see through it to the carpet below it?

A hint of movement appeared at the corner of her mouth and Sarah shook herself like a large bear shaking off a winter sleep. Oddly, she was amused about it. It was coming in on the coattails of the even _worse_ news she'd received this week, news she hadn't brought herself to tell anyone but Mandy; and her protégé only knew about it because she had been present when it happened.

The University had fired her. Dr. Sarah Chanson was officially out of a job. No more grants, no more archeological digs in Egypt, no more expeditions, period. No, we don't care that you discovered a pharaoh's tomb as full of riches as Tutankamun! The economy, the cutbacks, you know how these things go. Fame and fortune don't mean a damn thing, honey, not when there aren't the funds in existence to support them! Good luck living off the royalties of the talking head appearances you'll be making in documentaries because that's about all you're good for anymore!

None of these things were said by the University committee, of course. Considering all of their false, blow-softening words, and bon voyage farewell packaging, they might as well have.

_I don't think I've felt this bad since my divorce._

Sarah rubbed her eyes tiredly, glanced at the time, and stood up. Her mind was abuzz. If she made the arrangements tonight, she thought, as she moved through the apartment, making plans, she could head out early tomorrow morning. Her passport to Japan was still good and there was enough in her savings to spend a few days there. It was enough so she would be able to do what she needed to do. Then she would come home and pack her things. Anzu would already be home by then so she'd have some help with that. The hardest part of all of this would be telling Mandy, but she decided she would cross that bridge when she got to it. The solution to completely reversing the part of one's life that had collapsed was by building a new one where the old one used to exist. She was taking a page out of the great civilizations of the past that she had made her life and career studying.

In her flurry of activity, she paused to make a selection from her CD collection, and turned the volume up. "Sister Golden Hair" was always a mood raiser, and Re only knew how much she needed it right now.

* * *

_Four Days Later…_

"I _know_ what I'm doing, Mama, would you just trust me?"

Atem lifted his head from the magazine he'd been perusing, attracted by the sounds coming from the kitchen. Keeping his finger between the pages of the article he'd been reading, he crept to the threshold to see what was going on. He bit back a guffaw at the sight that greeted him.

Yuugi was standing in front of the stove, his arms out to his sides protectively, guarding the bubbling brew simmering behind him. His mother stood in opposition, one hand on one hip, sternly waving a wooden ladle back and forth before her obstinate son's upturned nose.

"It isn't about an issue of trust, young man, it's about responsibility!" She was lecturing and using the ladle to illustrate her every point. "This is _my_ kitchen and what I say in _my_ kitchen goes!"

"But this is my food and my stove and my cookware!" Yuugi all but whined. "There's got to be some latitude you can give me! My friends are going to be here in _twenty_ _minutes_! Anzu has to take off in, god, an _hour_! I promise you very little defilement of your sacred shrine."

Mrs. Mutou narrowed her eyes. "Are you giving me lip, Yuugi Mutou?"

Exasperated, Yuugi made a face at her. It was simply a thing of beauty, Atem mused, at how interacting with one's mother could regress even the most mature man right back into acting like a moody adolescent. "I wouldn't dream of that, Mama. I just want this party to go off without a hitch. This is _important_ to me," he added pleadingly, "why don't you see that?"

Mrs. Mutou gestured toward the living room where it was presumed they thought Atem still was, unknowingly pointing right at said man himself. "I don't see it because I don't even know this guy!" she protested. "I've met all of your friends except this Atem person. Who is he? You still haven't told me where you know him from except that you knew him for three years when you were in high school!"

"Yuugi saved my life." Atem let his baritone roll over the small room. Startled, the mother and son turned to look at him. He bestowed his warmest, most winning smile over Yuugi's mother, and was secretly gratified to see her falter in his presence. He didn't have to be Pharaoh to inspire awe in people anymore, he thought, it was all about how one carried himself. "He enabled me to return to my homeland when no one else was able to help me," he continued, crossing the kitchen to the pair. "Misfortune separated us but providence reunited us." He put an arm around his other's shoulders and gave the younger man a squeeze. "He is my best friend and my partner."

_Laying it on a bit thick aren't you?_ Yuugi flushed a violent shade of pink and directed his gaze to his feet. Atem thought that impossibly adorable and experienced a powerful urge to kiss him. But he didn't. Yuugi had cautioned him against being overly affectionate with him in front of his mother.

"I haven't told her about us," he'd explained anxiously, "let alone that I'm in love with a man. Until I've explained and convinced her that I'm not gay, I'm just in love with _you_, we'll need to keep this quiet for now."

Atem did not understand wholly the controversies of same sex relations nor why other people felt they needed to impose their opinions and judgments over things that didn't concern them. However, he attributed his confusion to his growing up in a world where he could literally have anyone he wanted. He and Yuugi couldn't exactly sneak around temple foyers and palace gardens. So he was okay with their relationship remaining a secret for the present: after all, it was how they started out getting to know one another in the first place.

Frustrated, Mrs. Mutou tossed up her hands, giving up. "All right, whatever you say, Mr. Ishtar. Just please make sure you don't let my son or his friends get carried away in their celebrations." Putting down her ladle, she smiled pleasantly at him. "Maybe later we can have a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it?"

Perceiving the obvious trap, and yet doing nothing to avoid the pitfall, Atem smiled back serenely. Did he really have a choice? "I would be delighted."

_Atem, you're such a kiss-ass_, Yuugi sent grumpily.

_Only because I learned from the best, aibou, _Atem responded smoothly.

_Hey, that had better _not_ have been a dig at _me_._

_I am neither confirming nor denying._

Shooting a triumphant look her son's way – he could practically hear her go "A-ha!" in her head – Mrs. Mutou left the kitchen and headed down the hall toward her office. Atem grinned and moved his head lower to place a quick kiss on Yuugi's astonished lips before drawing away to sit at the table.

Yuugi watched after him in amazement. "I honestly don't know how you do that with people!" he blurted, gesticulating in disbelief. "It's like you're made of magic or something."

The former pharaoh winked at him playfully. "Is this so hard to believe? I _do_ command the Shadows, aibou. Magic, as with any supernatural force, _can_ be controlled. It is only how you direct it and what you will of it which truly defines what it will become. Be they a malevolent punishing force in a Dark Game… or a defensive one."

Mentioning the Shadows had a sobering affect on Yuugi. A gloomy cast came over his usually bright features. "Speaking of which, what does that mean now?" he worried quietly. "You opened the forbidden door again after we fought so hard just to close it. Will we… will you… what's going to happen now?"

Gravely, Atem folded his hands together, slanted his head attentively to the side. He heard what his other did not - would not - say. He did not speak for a long time. "I cannot say for certain," he answered finally. "Much has changed since that time. I only pray that I will not have to make the same sacrifices again. The end this time would be… truly permanent."

Evidently in an attempt to hide how much hearing this upset him, Yuugi leapt to his feet suddenly, and quickly moved to turn off the stove. He shifted the vessel he had been stirring to the other unused element to allow it to cool down. Finished, brushing his palms together hastily, Yuugi slid back into the chair across from the ancient man. He reached across the table to enfold Atem's fingers securely within his own. Atem smiled somewhat, and rubbed the soft center of Yuugi's palm with the rough pads of his fingertips. Yuugi shivered with pleasure, as the sensation caused everything hiding inside the game merchant to quiver anew. Like compulsion, it was as if they couldn't _help_ their need to touch; it connected their mind links on a deeper level, allowing him to feel the emotions of his other within the very blood of his body. Atem hadn't realized how much he'd craved their former connection until they'd regained it. It was addicting. From the instantaneous easing tell of the tension in his body, the fond glow in his eyes and face, he could tell Yuugi felt the same way.

Yuugi gazed upon their linked hands for a long while. Then he brought his gaze up to Atem's, his own harder than flint, and twice as unyielding. "In that case, I'll either block your way or follow you over the threshold. The afterlife had the opportunity to keep you _twice_." His grip increased with an unbendable fierceness. "It's my turn to have you."

Instead of being repelled by the unremitting declaration, Atem basked in his partner's possessiveness. If he had said these words four years ago, they would have worried him inconsolably. He sent a signal of affection to Yuugi through their link.

Yuugi exhaled volubly, closing his eyes in bliss as he experienced the other man's feelings wash over him. "Man," he mumbled, with a kind of languid, crooked grin, "this is better than sex."

Atem pouted. "Surely you jest."

Perceiving his tone, Yuugi opened one eye, and returned the pharaoh's smirk with one of his own. They grinned evilly at one another before both burst out laughing… before promptly almost flying out of their socks when Anzu suddenly leapt into the kitchen, fluttering around the small space like a bird released from its cage.

"Omigod, omigod, I gotta go soon! Pleasepleaseplease!" she cried, rushing over to the pot and lifting the lid for a moment to check on the food. "Yes! It's done!" She turned to Yuugi and placed a sound kiss on his cheek, of which he answered with a proud grin. "You are the best! I don't know how you do it."

"Mmm!" Yuugi winked at her impishly. "It's a secret!"

Pleased, Anzu laughed. "It always is with you." She checked her watch hurriedly and groaned loudly. "What the heck are those guys _doing_?" she fretted. "They know I have to be out of here soon, right? They might not see me again, ever."

"I will." Anzu glanced at Atem, taken aback by his announcement. "I plan to visit you in New York City when I am able to travel to the United States."

Forgetting her panic momentarily, Anzu positively lit up. "_Really_? You'd come see me?"

"Of course I would. You are my friend."

Anzu beamed, the color in her cheeks was high and pink. "I'll _always_ be your friend." She winked at Yuugi out of the corner of one luminous blue eye before pulling out her mobile phone, presumably calling to see why Jounouchi and Honda were taking so long to appear. She left the kitchen at a brisk march, greeting the person who picked up with a severe: "Where _are_ you guys? You know I'm leaving in an hour…"

When she was gone, Yuugi turned his attention back to Atem. "So, uh, how long _can_ you stay?" he asked uncertainly. The naked dread on Yuugi's face said the rest for him. He didn't want Atem to leave just yet. There he had happy news, at least.

"Between Malik and Isis, we have enough funds to stay for the rest of the week." Yuugi sat up a little more in his chair. There were the beginnings of a smile stretching across his round face. "Do not fret so, aibou." He absently rubbed his other's wrist. "I have no desire to leave Japan as of yet. I want to walk through Domino with you. I want to see the places you like to go."

_This is sounding more and more like a date._

_Is it not?_

Putting the mental reply aside, Yuugi seemed to wriggle all over like a puppy. "There are a lot of things I wanted to share with you. Now that I have the chance to, I can't wait." In lieu of his enthusiastic words, Atem felt an affectionate tap, like a light slap, against his mind, of which he returned with a teasing hint of something a little less innocent.

Yuugi threw him a cheerfully tolerant look once he had his attention again. "_That's_ going to have to wait a little longer," he pointed out.

Disenchanted, Atem's slender form slumped in his chair. "Yes, I am aware," he fairly grumbled. _I cannot believe you are passing on a mid-morning quickie_.

_When you're expecting an audience at any moment,_ was the cool reply_, it's kind of a mood killer, other me._ Outwardly, Yuugi chuckled. "You know, I never would have guessed you'd be like this. You were always so… so…" he fished for the word, "…overly regal, asexual and game-oriented. Now I'm just surprised you were able to control yourself around Anzu and Mai."

Atem blushed. "Well, not so much Mai…"

"What?" Jerking back in surprise, Yuugi's eyes went wide. "_Mai?_"

"Um…"

A quick peek in his head was all it took for the rest of the truth to be known. "You never told me anything about that!" Yuugi was resentful. His brow furrowed deeply. "Want to explain it to me?"

_Dear Re, give me strength…_ "It was _one_ kiss, Yuugi." Atem explained long-sufferingly. "And _she_ was the one who decided we were not right for each other, not I. Do not be jealous. In my defense, I had no knowledge of who she was at the time, nor was she aware of me."

Still appearing skeptical, Yuugi appeared to relax a smidgeon. "Just don't tell Jounouchi," he warned. "He's crazy about Mai and would totally kill you if he found out you guys… had a thing. Trust me the amnesia defense _isn't_ going to work with him." He regarded Atem steadily for a long, silent period of time. "Sarah is the only one you got involved with, right?" he ventured uncertainly.

The pharaoh felt his insides wither and churn. "Aibou."

But "aibou" remained unyielding. He sat straight back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest haughtily, removed from his emotions. "It's a valid question," he went on, practically. "I _do_ believe you, you know. It's just… you _can't_ be doing that, much as it's what you're used to."

Atem felt the twisting pain rise up within his breast once again. "Please, let us discuss something else." _I_ thought _we settled this_, he sent through the link unhappily. _Please do not be angry with me. _

_I'm not angry,_ Yuugi responded calmly. _I should be, but I realized years ago that I literally am unable to ever get angry with you. If I were truly able to summon enough will power to actually get pissed off, I would have let that Puzzle perish in that burning warehouse years ago_.

Then suddenly Yuugi smiled at Atem, his expression full of all of the affection and love in his heart. "Maybe I am being too understanding about all of this," he said, with an endearing tilt of his head. "But I like to think if we can defeat the likes of Zorc Necrophades, we can conquer the pettier aspects of human jealousy, besides," he added with an even brighter smile, "this is us."

Atem would have kissed him then if, once again, Anzu didn't choose to nigh on leap joyously into the kitchen at that exact moment.

_She has no idea how uncanny her timing is,_ Atem mumbled.

_No kidding,_ Yuugi agreed, trying to hide how much he was trying _not_ to laugh.

"They're coming!" she exalted. "Jounouchi is bringing cake!" To Atem, "And Honda got those pomegranates you said you wanted." Mood rising, Atem visibly brightened, and became excited. "I'm actually kind of surprised he found them on such short notice."

Yuugi eagerly pushed back his chair. "In that case, let's get this meal started!" he announced cheerfully. "Help set the table, Atem?"

"Sure."

* * *

It was close to five after nine when Yuugi drove Atem back to the hotel. The short welcome home Atem/farewell party for Anzu had gone off without a hitch: Jounouchi showed up presenting with the biggest chocolate cake that could be carried by a single human man without the aid of a forklift. Honda, taking a page out of his own book on subtle gestures, simply presented the former pharaoh with three pomegranates, who gracefully accepted them with all of the thanks of a king. For all that he embraced of modern day civilization, Atem still craved whatever of his former culture he could have, and these fruits were a true delight for him. For a man who smirked more than smiled and possessed of probably the world's best poker face, seeing that little smile light up his face when Honda gave him those pomegranates was a sight that warmed his heart. He took a mental picture and secreted it away to recall at his leisure.

Shizuka had made a brief, thirty minute appearance to say her hellos and goodbyes, before she had to go back to tending the shop. Yuugi felt bad about making her work and offered to close the place for a few hours but Shizuka insisted on minding the store. She was really getting a handle on running a business, she claimed, and developing a good feel for consumers. Also, she admitted, she needed the money for the medical school she planned on attending next summer.

Now here they were sitting in his company car in the parking lot of the Domino Inn with the former co-occupant of his own mortal shell. Perhaps a normal person would have been boggled out of his mind by the existential conundrum of the whole concept. Yuugi was proud to say he wasn't. Being the weird kid nobody liked certainly had turned out to have some unexpected perks!

"I am heartened that you think of your days imagining you were a social outcast has not embittered you," Atem spoke aloud suddenly. "But it saddens me you still think of it – or of yourself as having been one."

Yuugi shrugged. "We are who we are," he said simply, "and we shouldn't forget where we came from, or how we became the people we are now. It's how we know we can change."

Atem smiled that wonderful smile of his again. "You truly have the heart of a king, Yuugi. And!" He reached over and laid his index finger over his protesting partner's lips. "Do not once more say that it is because of me!"

Yuugi caught the god king's hand and moved it so that he could feel the warm center of the other man's palm against his face. Almost at once he was enveloped by soft lips, a velvet tongue, and a delicious sensation spreading throughout his body. He hummed in pleasure and closed his eyes. It was true he did not feel their relationship needed to be defined by physical acts, yet he knew as surely as his own name that he would never refuse Atem's touches, nor resist in offering them. They were one person, once. While both enjoyed their individualities, enjoyed owning their own bodies, there were moments they missed that one physical connection that only the Puzzle had provided.

Now they had the mind link… and this. Oh they had this…

Withdrawing from one another by only inches, Atem asked with his eyes if Yuugi wanted to come up. Yuugi sat back and smiled in apology. "I'd like to, but I've got to work tomorrow at both jobs. I'm going to need all of the sleep I can get."

Atem accepted this, albeit it with some reluctance, respectfully pulling away. "I do not like that you work for Kaiba, Yuugi." This was a confession, and he could see that it bothered Atem to say it, for he looked a little uncomfortable. "I do not think I need to tell you why."

Yuugi nodded ruefully. "I know," he replied softly. "I need the money and I enjoy the work. Kaiba isn't so bad when you're his employee. In context of his business interests, he's actually a decent guy." He had to choke back a laugh at the abject look of disbelief on the other man's face.

"I find that very hard to believe."

This time, Yuugi did laugh.

"What?"

But Yuugi waved his hand at him, indicating nothing. Stretching an arm behind his head, he relaxed against the head cushion of his car seat, enjoying the good moment, the muscle flexing, and the night. He opened his mouth to say his parting words for the evening when a figure exiting from the lobby doors caught his attention. She was hard to miss with flowing silver-white blond hair and stylish blue long coat with its braided leather sash. She made pause on the curb, scanning the parking lot, presumably for either a vehicle or a person. She was very beautiful, Yuugi thought, and felt a sudden desire to see her close up. From this short distance, she seemed vaguely familiar to him, though he wasn't sure why.

So preoccupied he was by her appearance, Yuugi was startled when he heard the sound of breath going backward beside him. "Sarah?" he thought he heard Atem gasp, ahead of the passenger side door being unlocked and shoved open. "Sarah!" he shouted again, before the door clicked shut. He watched, hopelessly puzzled, and not just a little dumbfounded, as Atem hurried toward the woman, calling out her name once more, animatedly.

Yuugi frowned. Sarah Chanson? Here? But she must be, for the once-and-past monarch was rushing toward her with complete abandon. In response, upon catching sight of him, the slow smile of a woman who sees someone she truly adores lit her fair face. If it were possible, she seemed even more luminous in the dimly lit evening surrounding them. Slowly but surely Yuugi stepped out of the car and rested his hands casually over the top of the open door, and watched as Atem and the woman embraced. They pulled back after a long moment and just looked at each other, hands clasped between their bodies. Everything about their body language screamed of friendship and love – and quite honestly Yuugi thought it was one of the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.

He closed his eyes for a moment when he felt his other's delight flood their link and wash over him in a warm, almost electric flow, tingling in his fingertips and toes, sweeping him up inside and making his being feel lighter than air. _So this is his love for Sarah,_ Yuugi realized, letting it come to him, fill him, immerse him, because he wanted to understand it. _It's different from the way he feels about me. Not better, not worse, not less and not more, just… different_._ What he feels for her is his own, unconditional, something that belongs to him – and her._ The touch of a smile curved his lips before he opened his eyes again to Atem making happy exclamations and Sarah brightly answering them. At last, Atem turned from her to gesture that Yuugi come over. Yuugi closed the car door, and began moving across the parking lot.

It was time to meet the person who had given him his heart back.


	40. A Story That Ends In Light

"**A Story That Ends In Light"**

So this was Yuugi Mutou.

Like most of the young men she'd encountered in her tenure at the University, he possessed that same air of fresh-faced eagerness and energy. Yet there was also a shy boyishness in the tentative way he met her gaze. He seemed uncertain of how to greet her; his hand made as if to lift, and then twitched back at his side again. Sarah solved the problem for him by bowing politely. This brought a genuine relieved smile to his face and he bowed back readily, pleased by her show of respect for his culture. Her gesture made it easier for him to finally lift his hand and offer her a handshake, which she grasped with a firm, friendly grip.

"It's so good to finally get to meet you," Sarah led in carefully very aware of Atem's anxious eyes ricocheting back and forth between them. She gestured to the former pharaoh almost teasingly. "You're all he talks about."

Almost instantly, Yuugi flushed and cut a narrow eyed mock glare at the other man. "Nothing too bad, I hope." Atem pretended to become preoccupied by a nearby streetlamp. Yuugi rolled his eyes and returned his focus to her. "So," he began, "what are you doing in Japan?"

Sarah wasn't sure Atem picked up on the faint antagonism that lingered in his question, nor the curious bluntness in which he asked it. What she came here to tell Atem probably – no definitely - wasn't going to go over well with him. Sarah heaved a tiny little sigh. There were some fights one wasn't destined to win.

"There's something I need to tell Atem." She glanced at him meaningfully as she said it, and shifted her posture just slightly to include the both of them. "Normally a phone call would have sufficed, but…" To Atem, directly, "what I need to tell you can only be told face to face." All right, formality over: time to go in for the kill. "Is there a more private place we can talk?"

Atem pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "My room." To Yuugi, he gave a long significant Look. Yuugi held it for a long time, his face made of stubborn granite, subtlety shaking his head no. Visibly disgruntled, Atem's gaze tapered, wholly unyielding. Yuugi tried once more to hold out before ultimately lowering his head and averting his eyes to the right.

Sarah watched the silent duel of wills, mesmerized. No doubt they had just waged an entire argument over that "mind link" of theirs. From what she could tell from Yuugi's defeated reactions, Atem had won it. Under any other circumstances, it would have chagrined her greatly to have placed herself between them. Yet this matter was a private one and she appreciated that Atem seemed to recognize her urgency.

"All right," Yuugi announced out loud, making a grand show of stretching and covering up his defeat. "I have to get up early anyway." As he turned to go, he reached out, and gently grasped Sarah by the arm. "Just… Can I talk to you for a second?" To Atem, briefly: "Alone?"

The ex-god king seemed reluctant to retreat, perhaps scared they might wind up killing one another (considering their situation, no one would fault him). Nonetheless, Sarah gave him her most supportive smile, ignoring Yuugi's hand clasping onto her lower arm. "It's okay. Wait for me in your room. 224, right?" He nodded. "I'll see you in a few minutes." Yuugi was already leading her away.

Atem watched after them apprehensively. "Aibou…" he stated, unwilling to let them go, the thinnest thread of hidden terror inflected in his voice. Unexpectedly, Yuugi glanced back at him silently, and, to her faint surprise, he simply winked. Instantly, Atem relaxed. "Okay." He conceded. "Do not be long." Then just like that, he was jogging away, his slender form moving effortlessly up the stairs, as he clearly decided _not_ to use the elevator this time. Elevators unsettled him, as she recalled, and he avoided them whenever possible.

"Were you telling the truth before?" Startled, Sarah turned back to Yuugi as he let go of her arm. His gaze was flint stone and his expression even more so. "Or were you just saying that to save face?"

"About your being all he talks about?" Yuugi nodded. "Yes, I was telling the truth."

He took her in from head to foot, assessing her in a critical manner that he had not dared to do before, only doing it in a noticeable manner now that they were alone. Sarah bore his intense scrutiny with grace and dignity. He would deem her unworthy or he would not. At this new point in her life, she couldn't be bothered to care about what other people thought of her or how they thought she fit in Atem's world. Certainly braving Malik or Isis's wrath hadn't been (that much of) a concern of hers. If she wasn't worth the trouble to him, Atem would not have sought her out as he had. Yet oddly enough, she _did_ care about what Yuugi thought of her, not only because she knew she had lost Atem to him, in a way, but because of his importance to Atem. This was _his other half_. She found she cared more about his opinion right now than about anyone else's.

Suddenly he balked, and scratched the back of his head, letting out a little embarrassed laugh. The steel and the stone were gone. "Sorry… I'm just not used to this." He admitted sheepishly. "I've never thought I'd find myself in a situation like this with a woman."

"Nor I." Sarah made an amused sound. "Finding out my rival is a man? I don't think my high school years quite covered this sort of socially awkward situation." Now it was her turn now to do an assessment. "The real question is: can we be adults about this?"

For a moment, Yuugi glanced up toward the room where Atem waited. "I want to be." He turned back to her. "I'm trying. I just want to know…" He stopped, weighing, opening and closing his hands nervously. "I _need_ to know…" He looked up, and for the first time she saw fear in his eyes. "Do you?"

Sarah knew what he was talking about. "I do," she replied softly, "and I respect it; it hurts, but I respect it."

"It has nothing to do with sexual orientation – his or mine." Yuugi bit his lower lip, tearing out each word bit by bit. It was costing him to be decent, to be the good person he knew he was, and probably embarrassed he _wasn't_ raging like a green-eyed monster. But he _wanted_ to communicate with her - she felt it, she felt his need to connect with her, and she appreciated that, because she knew she never would have had the fortitude to be _this_ considerate. "That's not what this is about. His feelings for you, they _didn't_ change, they…" Yuugi looked like he was twisting in agony inside. "They got in the way. So he chose."

When she closed her eyes, he pressed on desperately, coming toward her. "You've got to know how hard that was for him, you've got to know it wasn't easy!" When he took her hands, the same way Atem had done, her eyes flew open and she stared at the young man, stunned. Yuugi was pained, close to tears. "Please don't hate him!" he cried. "_Please_!"

It was a long time before Sarah was able to find her tongue. For a time, she saw what it was Atem loved about Yuugi: there was a light that radiated from him so brilliantly. It was like she could almost feel it as it enveloped her. "Never." She heard herself whisper fervently. "I feel so lucky to hold a place in his heart, and what's more…" She glanced down briefly at their hands, which he had not yet relinquished. "I want to be a part of _your_ story too."

Fingers loosened, Yuugi gradually released her hands, his sunny smile the sort of smile she was dying to know the secret hidden inside of it. "You are, Sarah. When I saw you, I thought I knew you, and when Atem said your name, I knew you were." Her light puzzled frown only made him shake his head and wave it off. "One day I'll tell you everything."

Sarah folded her arms, feeling thwarted. "You better."

"I will," he promised sincerely. Then Yuugi slipped his hands into his pockets. "I really _do_ need to get going." Shrug. "I want to talk to you some more." His violet eyes beseeched her. "I mean, if… if you want to, I mean."

Nothing would please her more. Sarah nodded. "I'd like that." Already she was mentally planning out her discussion questions for her book – and there were many of them.

He looked so relieved and happy it almost hurt to look at him. "Well, then, I will see you tomorrow."

"Absolutely." In fact, she was sure that after tonight, she wouldn't be able to avoid it. She turned to go.

"Sarah."

She looked back.

Yuugi was gazing at her with a curious sort of wonder and gratitude in his expression, followed by a smile. He lifted a hand to her in a half-wave, before heading back to his car.

* * *

Atem was sitting at the foot of his hotel bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and his knees going a mile a minute. His palms rubbed together in circles and his gaze was fixed ahead. His heart was thundering against his ribs and his chest felt like it was going to burst at any moment. He hadn't felt this edgy since the morning of his coronation! How had he survived that had been a miracle, but he was certain this might just come close enough to kill him.

_Give me Zorc, give me Bakura, hell, give me Kaiba and his Three Headed Blue Eyes! Anything except this!_

The knock on his door nearly made him hit the ceiling. Instead he jumped up as if sprung from a spring and answered it. Sarah drew back slightly, her mouth open in an O of surprise at the swiftness in which the door flew open. Atem had to stand there for a moment, staring at her, unable to help himself. She was so pretty, he thought in near despair, whether looking like that or at any other time. Why had been the gods been so cruel? He was sure he was forever going to be torn between her and Yuugi no matter who he had decided to be with. What kept him from complete emotional pandemonium was that he was absolutely certain about Yuugi. Living without him was akin to being dead, and since he was no longer dead, he saw no reason why he ought to.

He let himself have one last moment of weakness when he gently grasped her wrist and tugged her inside. Closing the door, he pulled her to him, cupped the sides of her face and chin, and kissed her. Sarah kissed back chastely, before stepping out of the embrace easily, grazing his lips just slightly with her fingers as she withdrew. The smile she gave him was sad but lit with a soft contentment that assured him he hadn't destroyed them. He nearly wept with relief.

She held his hands in her own, caressing his fingers and his palms thoughtfully. "I know I said I had something important to tell you," she began quietly, "and it was true what I said about it's being necessary to see you, but the truth is…"

"You wanted _any_ excuse to come see me." Atem laughed as her lips quirked up in a little 'guilty as charged' smile. He winked at her. "I know you, Sarah."

"Yes. That you do." Sarah drew a long, silent breath. "I… I'll just say it." She met his gaze boldly and let out her breath in a short huff. "I'm pregnant."

Immediately Atem closed his eyes. His head bowed. After what seemed like a long endless moment, he opened his eyes and met hers. She seemed frightened and braced, as if gathering internal battlements to wage war against the vile barrage she seemed so sure was to come. When he did not react further, or speak, she released his hands and bit her lower lip, which had begun to tremble.

"I found out before you called me about your duel with Bakura," she went on shakily. "I… I didn't say anything because I didn't want you distracted. I didn't want anything to stand in the way of your saving Yuugi." Desperately she raked her fingers through her hair with one hand, turning around to face the door. "It's okay if you don't want it but I do, so you don't have to do anything. I just thought you had the right to know." At last she could no longer suppress the bevy of tears behind the dam of her iron will. She dissolved and began to sob. "Please just say something, please."

Atem finally managed to haul out of his daze. He perceived what she had said. He realized his error in having just stood there in damnable silence. She could not think this of him, he would not let her. He moved and gathered Sarah up in his arms and held her close. He felt her bury her face between his neck and shoulder, her breaths shuddery and sweet against his skin.

"Once," he said with a sigh, "the gods gave me a child and took him from me, and then they sought to steal his mother from me as well; they succeeded both times in this." He pulled away and stroked Sarah's cheek, drying the wetness away with the pad of his thumb. "It is an evil thing that I cannot remember her name, nor was I able to properly give my son his. I will not forget your name. I will not forsake this child."

"You're happy then?"

He smiled with his whole heart. "I am." Then he couldn't help it, he couldn't keep up the façade of regality anymore. "I _am_!" He wrapped his arms around her and exclaimed, laughing. "I am going to be a father! A pharaoh knows no greater joy."

"Or sorrow." When Atem stared at her in askance, Sarah bowed her head. "It's a mixed blessing of sorts for me," she admitted. "Which brings me to the other thing I have to tell you: I'm out of a job."

"What?" This came as the worst kind of shock to him. "How is this possible?"

"The University cut me off. I'm still an archeologist but I don't work for them anymore. Consequently it means no more digs, no more funds for research, and no more income." Sarah walked farther into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. "I'll be moving out of Anzu's apartment back to my place out in Ohio. My renter's lease is up so I'll be free to live on the property again." Atem was amazed as he listened and watched her speak. She seemed rather cheerful considering the blow she had been dealt. Being an archeologist had been _everything_ to her. She'd put important relationships on the line for this career. How could a person just so blithely accept defeat?

_When you accept there are things in this world that are not in your control; when you can accept the breaking point of starting over. _Yes, he knew this pain only all too well – and then he understood her better than he thought he could.

"I've got enough money saved to last me for the rest of the year," she continued, unaware of the thoughts going through his mind. "I was thinking about teaching at the community college in Ohio until the baby comes. My parents live out there too, so I won't be alone." She gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Rebuilding my life wasn't something I ever wanted to do the first time when I got my divorce. I'm sure it's not something a person is supposed to get used to. But," she smiled cheerfully, "I guess you know all about that."

He nodded, amazed at how her verbalizations so closely synched with his thoughts. Indeed he did. _And_ _I still have such a long way to go_.

"I've lived for the hunt for so long." Sarah gazed longingly into the distance, seeing something the former pharaoh could not see. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get rid of the itch for Egypt. I guess you could say it's in my blood. Though I _will_ have to say this much for myself," she added before looking up at him almost reverently. "I don't think anyone in my field is ever going to top this."

He sank to one knee before her. "Top this? I am not certain I understand?"

Sarah touched the hand that had come to rest absently on her knee. "How many Egyptologists can say they brought a pharaoh back from the dead? Other than Evelyn from _The Mummy_?"

"None, because she brought back a priest, not a pharaoh," he pointed out logically, adding with his usual roguery, "and he was not nearly half as sexy as I am."

Eyes lighting up in surprise, Sarah giggled, probably at the comparative mental images of Atem and Arnold Vosloo, and patted his hand affectionately. "You're such a textbook narcissist," she teased, and he made a face. "In light, I think this might turn out to be a good thing for me. I'll be able to work on my book full-time now."

He brightened slightly. "Ah, that you will." He debated quietly for a few moments. "I would ask you to return to Egypt with me," he spoke softly, hesitantly, "but you seem to have figured everything out." He looked away, chewing over his next words. "Also I do not think it would be fair to Yuugi. That part of me belongs to him." Then he looked back at Sarah earnestly. "But the part that belongs to our child: that is yours. I will come to this Ohio in America when your time is near. I will be there when you need me."

_And I will guard all of the rivers and the lakes_, he vowed privately with internal ferocity. _Sobek will not have another woman of mine while I live_.

Sarah surprised him by lifting one of his hands and kissing the back of it. "I'd really like that. And if Yuugi wants to come, let him." He stared at her, completely taken aback, not expecting her to have said that. "I like him." She flushed. "I was only alone with him for a few minutes and… I can't describe it. I love him already and I don't even know him."

Atem resisted the urge to kiss Sarah. She had no idea how much her feeling that way about Yuugi meant to him. "He tends to have that affect on people." He grinned. "He does not even try he just cares so much about the people who are important to him. He puts other people's happiness before his own, though he has thankfully developed a sense of self-preservation over the years." Atem closed his eyes, reminiscing fondly. "I feel like I have loved Yuugi forever. He is my aibou and mou hitori no ore." Realizing how hurtful this must be for her to hear, he opened his eyes, and gazed into Sarah's face, which was rapt upon his. "But I love you as well, Sarah, and no less than I always have. I do not stop loving someone once I have come to love them. I simply am not capable of that." He tried to quell the anguish and the helplessness within him, yet it must have shown on his face. "But Yuugi… Yuugi is… I cannot describe it… I…"

And he didn't have to for Sarah leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, letting her lips linger upon his brow before she settled back. "You don't have to justify it," she murmured. "There are some things in heaven and earth and within our own hearts that cries out and we have to listen to what they tell us even if a little part of us must die to understand it – and accept it." Sarah settled her hand beneath his chin and bade him look at her. "All I ever really wanted from you is what I still have now."

Atem leaned in so their foreheads touched. "You will always have that," he murmured.

"I better."

Chuckling quietly under his breath, the King of Egypt moved back and smiled at her faintly sardonic tone. "Well played, Doctor."

Now _she_ made a face! "Oh don't call me that. I hate it when anyone calls me that; gives me the urge to look around to see where my TARDIS went."

"Your what?"

She viewed him with amusement. "You don't watch _Dr. Who_ do you?"

"No, but I am going to." Atem rose up and plopped on the bed next to her. "So where are you residing?"

Sarah looked at the carpet. "Um, actually, this is going to sound completely crazy…" She finally glanced at him uncomfortably. "I haven't been able to check into a hotel yet. My flight just came in this morning, and um, I'd been waiting for you in the lobby all day."

Atem was dumbfounded. "It did not occur to you that perhaps you ought to have checked in?"

Amused, Sarah nudged him for his obviousness. "Of course it did, Your Highness. But they're all booked up for the week." She paused uncertainly, tapping her fingers lightly upon her thigh. "Would it be totally inappropriate if I slept here tonight?" she ventured carefully. "Unless someone else is using the other bed?"

"No. Malik roomed in with his sister."

Her silver eyebrows rose gracefully. "That's surprising. You'd think he'd want to room in with another man."

"Not me, as such." Atem hoped the expression on his face wasn't shuttered in the pout he was afraid was currently adorning it. "He accuses me of taking longer 'primping' in the bathroom than Isis. No one takes that long putting kohl on, he says, and really, why do I not use liquid eyeliner instead… Why are you laughing?" Atem stared at her, puzzled. "Oh Sarah that looks like it hurts, please stop that cannot be good for the baby… No, do not… would you please…" He stared at her as she clung to her sides and slapped the comforter a few times in her throes of mirth. Frustrated, he made a fist and then gestured theatrically. "Fine then!" he boomed. "I give up!" He folded his arms indignantly and set his face to granite. "Laugh yourself unto oblivion for all I care!" Except, it was hard to remain defensive when a tiny smile of its own was fighting to break his face in half, and soon enough, he was joining her, albeit, very quietly.

* * *

Yuugi was having a hard time digesting the news. It ought to have been easier, really. Man plus woman equals baby… well, _some_ of the time. Atem hadn't exactly been clandestine when he had told him that he and Sarah had used to have a sexual relationship. This shouldn't have knocked him over the way it did.

Yet it did.

At first he took it completely wrong. In hindsight, he was mortified by how he reacted, and was just thankful the only saving grace was that Sarah had not been there to see it. Yuugi wasn't too keen on unmanning himself before female eyes – as if throwing what amounted to a hissy fit in front of _Atem_ wasn't bad enough!

"Yuugi… aibou… please!" Atem's muffled voice through the bathroom door was absolutely miserable. "You have every right to be upset, I understand, but you h…" The door opening suddenly cut him off mid-sentence causing him to reel back, wide eyed, to Yuugi storming forward and past him into his room.

"It didn't occur to you to use protection?" Yuugi shouted explosively, throwing his arms and hands out wildly. Atem had to jump out of the way of the flailing limbs. "It's called a condom for a reason! You can get them out of _vending machines_ for god's sake!" He put his fists on his hips and glanced around his room, and nodded, satisfied with what he saw. "All right, get your jacket, Pharaoh. We're going for a walk."

"A-All right. If… If that is what you want." Appearing appropriately cowed, Atem scrambled to do just that, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste.

Yuugi looked after him, smacked the center of his forehead, and groaned softly. He knew _exactly_ what Jounouchi would have said of his behavior. "Yuugi, you are being a dick, you know that?" he mumbled aloud, relieved Atem wasn't there to see the remorse weighing down his entire face and body.

_He deserves congratulations and the traditional cigar, not a blast of immature third degree jealous rage!_ His conscience screamed at the top of its very strong and healthy lungs. _It's not like _you_ could give him a baby so don't shit all over his happiness! He deserves this and you know it! Dammit, Yuugi, you're better than this!_

Deeply ashamed, it took an entire fifteen minutes of their roving around side-by-side through the side streets of Domino, not speaking out loud or through their mind link, until Yuugi managed to pony up the courage to apologize. It wasn't as difficult a task as it first presented. Atem's hunched shoulders, lifeless walk, hands in pockets, and downcast demeanor filled Yuugi with a peculiar mixture of affection and guilt.

_Look at him, he can't even look at me, he's so upset,_ Yuugi thought ruefully, mentally smacking himself in the face over and over again. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Make it right, Mutou, and do it now!_

Yet it felt like his tongue had glued itself to the roof of his mouth. His wandering eyes seemed to find the trees, grass, and fountains of the park they had entered in their travels downright fascinating. Soon they had left the public walkways and were making their way off the beaten path through a small cluster of woods. Shafts of sunlight peeked through the foliage above while small animals like squirrels and birds darted in and out of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuugi saw Atem watch a couple of chipmunks chase each other in and around the remains of a rotting log. A smile curved his elegant lips for the first time all day. He made a small sound of amusement under his breath, his tapered scarlet gaze shifting to meet Yuugi's. It grew when it saw the smile that had involuntarily come out on its own watching his other.

Yuugi moved toward him first, hurt when Atem made as if to step away; he was relieved when he stopped his retreat immediately. Since they were almost the exact same height, it was easy to slide his arms around him, and rest his head on his shoulder. Yuugi exhaled when he felt Atem's arms warmly return the embrace and relax into it, his heated breath stirring the hairs at the nape of his neck. For a long while the two remained under the shade of the trees, wreathed by flashing spots of sunlight.

"I'm sorry." Yuugi murmured, his voice nearly muffled by Atem's shoulder. He pulled away, hands still cradling the other close, so they were looking into each other's faces. He needed Atem to see his sincerity. "I shouldn't have said those things. Those were terrible things to say."

Atem, being the goddamned wonderful person he was, only rewarded the apology with that gentle smile he reserved only for him. "You were only speaking your mind, aibou."

Making an exasperated noise, Yuugi shook his head, stepping from his other's arms. "Dammit, Atem, don't do that," he blurted wearily.

The former monarch was confused. "Do not do what?"

"Give me a free pass on this one. I messed up and you need to hold me accountable for it. I'm not perfect so don't… Just don't put me up on a pedestal. I'm…" It took an effort to get it out but he managed it. "You wanted me to be happy for you, you needed me to be supportive, and instead I decided to be an ass."

Atem glanced away, biting his bottom lip. He said nothing.

Yuugi didn't let him and attempted to follow his line of sight. "You'd have been mad if it was anyone else," he pressed. "Be mad. Please."

The older man smirked and put one hand on his hip. "I cannot," he sighed, shaking his head self-effacingly. "Remember when you said you have trouble becoming angry with me? This goes both ways. You could cheat at a Shadow Game and I would not be able to bring myself to inflict the Penalty upon you."

Yuugi nodded. "We're too forgiving," he agreed glumly.

"I do not think it is that." Atem answered Yuugi's raised eyebrow by raising both of his own. "Else you would not have felt the need to apologize to me. You _are_ angry, Yuugi, and it is not entirely without understanding. I should think I would have felt the same if our situations were reversed." He cupped Yuugi's cheek and chin, running his thumb along the curve of his face as he liked to do so often. "This changes nothing between us," he murmured tenderly. "You know better than anyone there is no force in this world capable of doing that."

Yuugi reached up and removed the hand, instead enfolding them together, interlocking their fingers. "You really are something, other me." He smiled with a small chuckle. "But you're wrong about one thing: there _are_ going to be changes. Only what kind they have to be is up to us."

Pausing, Yuugi pulled Atem with him to a nearby tree, and together they settled beneath it, Yuugi's back against the trunk, Atem seated just slightly to his left, one knee casually raised with his arm draped over it. A peaceful stillness passed between them, a welcome adjustment from the uneasiness that had begun when they'd first left the house.

Yuugi rocked his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the diluted warmth of the spare sun rays playing over his face. His lips quirked upward when he felt Atem move close and press against him. He basked under the light kisses he administered to his chin, down his throat and up again, before he felt the gentle heat of his breath in his ear.

"Aibou."

He opened his eyes and tilted his head, listening.

Atem bit his lips together once, his brain humming. Yuugi felt what he wanted to say and waited patiently. "_Can_ you… be happy for me?" he asked cautiously.

Yuugi kissed his pharaoh on the forehead and then the cheek. "I think… I think I can be," he whispered, raising his voice with his next words. "I always wanted you to have your own life, with or without me in it."

"With_out_ you?" Atem appeared rather miffed, injured Yuugi even _entertained_ the notion. "I attempted this, aibou, and I have found it is no kind of life of my own if I cannot share it with you."

Delighted, Yuugi laughed. "Seriously, I wish I knew how you fire those off the way you do. Are you reading Anzu's Harlequin romances when I'm not looking?" he teased.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," they answered together before both cracked up.

"No, truly," Atem insisted, apparently not buying, or at least able to fully accept yet, Yuugi's answer. "Even if you cannot, I still need you with me." He looked away to hide the anguish in his eyes. "I do not want what happened with my previous woman and child to happen again. The gods have deemed me worthy of a second chance and I am… I am not certain of my strength."

Yuugi reached out and grasped his other by the shoulders. "You are the strongest man I know," he told him fiercely, determination set in his lower jaw, and in the potency of his grip. "You stood up against the madness of Bakura and crushed the forces of darkness countless times. If you felt the power of your soul the way I used to when we shared a body, you wouldn't be saying that, you wouldn't even be _thinking_ it. You _can_ do this because you _have_ done it." He kissed him soundly. "I bet my deck on it."

Atem lit up. "You still have your deck?"

It always was about the games, wasn't it? _Always and forever, they got me him, so I can't complain._ Yuugi sat back and grinned, shrugging. "My old one? Yeah. I haven't dueled in years, though." The god-king got a calculating look on his face and he rubbed his chin. Yuugi leaned forward, hopelessly intrigued. He knew too well what was brewing. "What's up?"

Atem steepled his fingers together thoughtfully, tapping the tips together rhythmically. "Remember that I said Kaiba recently challenged me to a duel, or rather," he amended, "I did, and now he's holding me to my word. Winner receives or keeps his Game King status."

Yuugi rolled his eyes. Yes, he did remember, unfortunately. _Dammit, Seto, there are some things you just can't let go can you?_ "Good grief."

"I agree. Still, I must honor his challenge."

Yuugi smirked, knowing better than to be fooled by his partner's false nobility. "Honor my foot. It has nothing to do with it. You just can't _wait_ to kick his ass."

"True." Atem grinned apologetically. "I was wondering if perhaps I might borrow your deck?"

"Of course."

Leaning forward so he could get to them, Yuugi reached into the back of his jeans and procured the cards, which were held together by a rubber band. Atem took them, handling them almost reverently, stroking the card stack's worn sides in wonder. "You have always kept these with you?" he asked curiously.

"Mmm!"

"Why?"

"We-ell," Yuugi blushed, feeling shy, "I guess it was my way to keep you close, by always keeping something we'd shared with me. I was glad I'd left it at home the day I was abducted, though. Who knows what Bakura would have done if he'd seen them." Not that playing Duel Monsters was on his agenda at all, he added silently. No, he'd had something _much_ more excruciating in mind…

A darkness crossed Atem's eyes then. Yuugi almost cursed, realizing he'd forgotten to put a cap on his thoughts. He smiled and folded his arms in his lap, feigning a cheer he knew Atem wouldn't buy. Atem's smooth brow furrowed and his eyes began to narrow.

"I will not forgive him," the former spirit of the Millennium Puzzle intoned sadly. "I cannot reconcile this time, aibou."

"I know." Yuugi bit his lips together and cast his gaze down to the ground, before lifting them again. He was about to tell Atem something up until now he'd only been able to speak with Otogi about. "It's not his fault," he spoke quietly, "I _know_ he wasn't in there, wasn't in control. Yet even knowing that, I can't… I can't be around him anymore." He inhaled slowly, deeply, fighting off a sudden wave of nausea. "Maybe one day I will be able to see him as my friend again and not as the man who hurt me. I have it in me to find the strength to do that. I know I do."

The rest of what he didn't say, he didn't have to. Atem's arms encircled him then and held him close. Yuugi burrowed his face into his other's neck and collar, feeling the sting of the horrific memories begin to ebb. Their minds met, enfolded one another, and merged. After a time, seconds, minutes later, they gently dissolved their connection, releasing each other.

He had his friends, he had his family, and he had mou hitori no boku. Yuugi smiled secretly as he felt Atem rest his cheek against the back of his neck. _I will be okay. _

_I always have been._

* * *

_Return from the Field of Reeds, Son of Re  
to Walk with Us beneath the Eye of Horus  
Go forth before the End of Darkness  
and the Beginning of the Light  
For you have been the Sacrifice  
Live and Love again, Brother  
And Be Well._

* * *

**Author's Note**

_As I write this, I know there are going to be readers wondering why on earth I chose to end this story the way I did with obviously there being so much more that I could do with it. But I realized while rereading it, this _was_ the end, which astonished me. Two souls holding one another, finally reunited, about to end one chapter of their lives and begin another, felt right to me. Unless things change for the future, I will not be writing a sequel any time soon. There are simply too many other stories I need to complete as of this posting. That said I'm happy with the finished project – as indeed a project it was! - and that is what is important._

_I would like to thank one particular reader of mine, _**spirithorse**_, for her unwavering support throughout the duration of this story's conception. That _Dr. Who_ reference was for you, sweetie._


End file.
